HEARTS  OF  THREE 


BY 


JACK  LONDON 


I3eto  gorfc 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1920 

All  rights  reserved 


OOPYBIGHT,  1920, 

BY  CHARMIAN  K.  LONDON 
Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published,  September,  1920 


FOREWORD 

I  hope  the  reader  will  forgive  me  for  beginning  this 
foreword  with  a  brag.  In  truth,  this  yarn  is  a  celebra 
tion.  By  its  completion  I  celebrate  my  fortieth  birth 
day,  my  fiftieth  book,  my  sixteenth  year  in  the  writing 
game,  and  a  new  departure.  "  Hearts  of  Three  "  is  a 
new  departure.  I  have  certainly  never  done  anything 
like  it  before;  I  am  pretty  certain  never  to  do  anything 
like  it  again.  And  I  haven't  the  least  bit  of  reticence  in 
proclaiming  my  pride  in  having  done  it.  And  now,  *^r 
the  reader  who  likes  action,  I  advise  him  to  skip  the  rest 
of  this  brag  and  foreword,  and  plunge  into  the  narrative, 
and  tell  me  if  it  just  doesn't  read  along. 

For  the  more  curious  let  me  explain  a  bit  further. 
With  the  rise  of  moving  pictures  into  the  overwhelmingly 
most  popular  form  of  amusement  in  the  entire  world,  the 
stock  of  plots  and  stories  in  the  world's  fiction  fund  began 
rapidly  to  be  exhausted.  In  a  year  a  single  producing 
company,  with  a  score  of  directors,  is  capable  of  filming 
the  entire  literary  output  of  the  entire  lives  of  Shake 
speare,  Balzac,  Dickens,  Scott,  Zola,  Tolstoy,  and  of 
dozens  of  less  voluminous  writers.  And  since  there  are 
hundreds  of  moving  picture  producing  companies,  it  can  be 
readily  grasped  how  quickly  they  found  themselves  face 
to  face  with  a  shortage  of  the  raw  material  of  which  mov 
ing  pictures  are  fashioned. 

The  film  rights  in  all  novels,  short  stories,  and  plays 
that  were  still  covered  by  copyright  were  bought  or  con 
tracted  for,  while  all  similar  raw  material  on  which  copy- 


VI  FOREWORD 

right  had  expired  was  being  screened  as  swiftly  as 
sailors  on  a  placer  beach  would  pick  up  nuggets. 
Thousands  of  scenario  writers  —  literally  tens  of 
thousands,  for  no  man,  nor  woman,  nor  child  was  too 
mean  not  to  write  scenarios  —  tens  of  thousands  of 
scenario  writers  pirated  through  all  literature  (copyright 
or  otherwise),  and  snatched  the  magazines  hot  from  the 
press  to  steal  any  new  scene  or  plot  or  story  hit  upon  by 
their  writing  brethren. 

In  passing,  it  is  only  fair  to  point  out  that,  though  only 
the  other  day,  it  was  in  the  days  ere  scenario  writers  be 
came  respectable,  in  the  days  when  they  worked  over-time 
for  rough-neck  directors  for  fifteen  and  twenty  a  week 
or  free-lanced  their  wares  for  from  ten  to  twenty  dollars 
per  scenario  and  half  the  time  were  beaten  out  of  the  due 
payment,  or  had  their  stolen  goods  stolen  from  them  by 
their  equally  graceless  and  shameless  fellows  who  slaved 
by  the  week.  But  to-day,  which  is  only  a  day  since  the 
other  day,  I  know  scenario  writers  who  keep  their  three 
machines,  their  two  chauffeurs,  send  their  children  to  the 
most  exclusive  prep  schools,  and  maintain  an  unwavering 
solvency. 

It  was  largely  because  of  the  shortage  in  raw  material 
that  scenario  writers  appreciated  in  value  and  esteem. 
They  found  themselves  in  demand,  treated  with  respect, 
better  remunerated,  and,  in  return,  expected  to  deliver  a 
higher  grade  of  commodity.  One  phase  of  this  new 
quest  for  material  was  the  attempt  to  enlist  known 
authors  in  the  work.  But  because  a  man  had  written  a 
score  of  novels  was  no  guarantee  that  he  could  write 
a  good  scenario.  Quite  to  the  contrary,  it  was  quickly 
discovered  that  the  surest  guarantee  of  failure  was  a 
previous  record  of  success  in  novel-writing. 

But  the  moving  picture  producers  were  not  to  be  de- 


FOREWORD  VII 

nied.  Division  of  labor  was  the  thing.  Allying  them 
selves  with  powerful  newspaper  organizations,  or,  in  the 
case  of  "  Hearts  of  Three,"  the  very  reverse,  they  had 
highly  skilled  writers  of  scenario  (who  couldn't  write 
novels  to  save  themselves)  make  scenarios,  which,  in 
turn,  were  translated  into  novels  by  novel-writers  (who 
couldn't,  to  save  themselves,  write  scenarios). 

Comes  now  Mr.  Charles  Goddard  to  one,  Jack  London, 
saying :  "  The  time,  the  place,  and  the  men  are  met ; 
the  moving  picture  producers,  the  newspapers,  and  the 
capital,  are  ready:  let  us  get  together."  And  we  got. 
Result:  "  Hearts  of  Three."  When  I  state  that  Mr. 
Goddard  has  been  responsible  for  "  The  Perils  of  Paul 
ine,"  "  The  Exploits  of  Elaine,"  "  The  Goddess,"  the 
"  Get  Rich  Quick  Wallingford  "  series,  etc.,  no  question 
of  his  skilled  fitness  can  be  raised.  Also,  the  name  of 
the  present  heroine,  Leoncia,  is  of  his  own  devising. 

On  the  Ranch,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon,  he  wrote  his 
first  several  episodes.  But  he  wrote  faster  than  I,  and 
was  done  with  his  fifteen  episodes  weeks  ahead  of  me. 
Do  not  be  misled  by  the  word  "  episode."  The  first  epi 
sode  covers  three  thousand  feet  of  film.  The  succeeding 
fourteen  episodes  cover  each  two  thousand  feet  of  film 
And  each  episode  contains  about  ninety  scenes,  whicu 
makes  a  total  of  some  thirteen  hundred  scenes.  Never 
theless,  we  worked  simultaneously  at  our  respective  tasks. 
I  could  not  build  for  what  was  going  to  happen  next  or 
a  dozen  chapters  away,  because  I  did  not  know.  Neither 
did  Mr.  Goddard  know.  The  inevitable  result  was  that 
"  Hearts  of  Three  "  may  not  be  very  vertebrate,  although 
it  is  certainly  consecutive. 

Imagine  my  surprise,  down  here  in  Hawaii  and  toiling 
at  the  novelization  of  the  tenth  episode,  to  receive  by  mail 
from  Mr.  Goddard  in  New  York  the  scenario  of  the 


Vlll  FOREWORD 

fourteenth  episode,  and  glancing  therein,  to  find  my  hero 
married  to  the  wrong  woman !  ...  and  with  only  one 
more  episode  in  which  to  get  rid  of  the  wrong  woman 
and  duly  tie  my  hero  up  with  the  right  and  only  woman ! 
For  all  of  which  please  see  last  chapter  of  fifteenth 
episode.  Trust  Mr.  Goddard  to  show  me  how. 

For  Mr.  Goddard  is  the  master  of  action  and  lord  of 
speed.  Action  doesn't  bother  him  at  all.  "  Register," 
he  calmly  says  is  a  film  direction  to  the  moving  picture 
actor.  Evidently  the  actor  registers,  for  Mr.  Goddard 
goes  right  on  with  more  action.  "  Register  grief,"  he 
commands,  or  "  sorrow,"  or  "  anger,"  or  "  melting  sym 
pathy,"  or  "  homocidal  intent,"  or  "  suicidal  tendency." 
That's  all.  It  has  to  be  all,  or  how  else  would  he  ever 
accomplish  the  whole  thirteen  hundred  scenes? 

But  imagine  the  poor  devil  of  a  me,  who  can't  utter 
the  talismanic  "  register  "  but  who  must  describe,  and  at 
some  length  inevitably,  these  moods  and  modes  so  airily 
created  in  passing  by  Mr.  Goddard!  Why,  Dickens 
thought  nothing  of  consuming  a  thousand  words  or  so 
in  describing  and  subtly  characterizing  the  particular 
grief  of  a  particular  person.  But  Mr.  Goddard  says, 
"  Register,"  and  the  slaves  of  the  camera  obey. 

And  action !  I  have  written  some  novels  of  adventure 
in  my  time,  but  never,  in  all  of  the  many  of  them,  have 
I  perpetrated  a  totality  of  action  equal  to  what  is  con 
tained  in  "  Hearts  of  Three." 

But  I  know,  now,  why  moving  pictures  are  popular.  I 
know,  now,  why  Messrs.  "  Barnes  of  New  York  "  and 
"  Potter  of  Texas  "  sold  by  the  millions  of  copies.  I 
know,  now,  why  one  stump  speech  of  high-falutin'  is  a 
more  efficient  vote-getter  than  a  finest  and  highest  act 
or  thought  of  statesmanship.  It  has  been  an  interesting 
experience,  this  novelization  by  me  of  Mr.  Goddard's 


FOREWORD  IX 

scenario;  and  it  has  been  instructive.  It  has  given  me 
high  lights,  foundation  lines,  cross-bearings,  and  illum 
ination  on  my  anciently  founded  sociological  generaliza 
tions.  I  have  come,  by  this  adventure  in  writing,  to  un 
derstand  the  mass  mind  of  the  people  more  thoroughly 
than  I  thought  I  had  understood  it  before,  and  to  realize, 
more  fully  than  ever,  the  graphic  entertainment  deliv 
ered  by  the  demagogue  who  wins  the  vote  of  the  mass 
out  of  his  mastery  of  its  mind.  I  should  be  surprised  if 
this  book  does  not  have  a  large  sale.  ("Register  sur 
prise,"  Mr.  Goddard  would  say;  or  "Register  large 
sale.") 

If  this  adventure  of  "  Hearts  of  Three  "  be  collabora 
tion,  I  am  transported  by  it.  But  alack !  —  I  fear  me 
Mr.  Goddard  must  then  be  the  one  collaborator  in  a  mil 
lion.  We  have  never  had  a  word,  an  argument,  nor  a 
discussion.  But  then,  I  must  be  a  jewel  of  a  collaborator 
myself.  Have  I  not,  without  whisper  or  whimper  of 
complaint,  let  him  "  register  "  through  fifteen  episodes 
of  scenario,  through  thirteen  hundred  scenes  and  thirty- 
one  thousand  feet  of  film,  through  one  hundred  and  eleven 
thousand  words  of  novelization?  Just  the  same,  having 
completed  the  task,  I  wish  I'd  never  written  it  —  for  the 
reason  that  I'd  like  to  read  it  myself  to  see  if  it  reads 
along.  I  am  curious  to  know.  I  am  curious  to  know. 

JACK  LONDON. 
Waikiki,  Hawaii, 

March  23,  1916. 


HEARTS  OF  THREE 


CHAPTER  I 

EVENTS  happened  very  rapidly  with  Francis  Morgan 
that  late  spring  morning.  If  ever  a  man  leaped  across 
time  into  the  raw,  red  drama  and  tragedy  of  the  primi 
tive  and  the  medieval  melodrama  of  sentiment  and  pas 
sion  of  the  New  World  Latin,  Francis  Morgan  was 
destined  to  be  that  man,  and  Destiny  was  very  immediate 
upon  him. 

Yet  he  was  lazily  unaware  that  aught  in  the  world  was 
stirring,  and  was  scarcely  astir  himself.  A  late  night  at 
bridge  had  necessitated  a  late  rising.  A  late  breakfast 
of  fruit  and  cereal  had  occurred  along  the  route  to  the 
library  —  the  austerely  elegant  room  from  which  his 
father,  toward  the  last,  had  directed  vast  and  manifold 
affairs. 

"  Parker,"  he  said  to  the  valet  who  had  been  his 
father's  before  him,  "  did  you  ever  notice  any  signs  of 
fat  on  R.  H.  M.  in  his  last  days  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  uttered  with  all  the  due 
humility  of  the  trained  servant,  but  accompanied  by  an  in 
voluntary  measuring  glance  that  scanned  the  young  man's 
splendid  proportions.  "  Your  father,  sir,  never  lost  his 
leanness.  His  figure  was  always  the  same,  broad- 
shouldered,  deep  in  the  chest,  big-boned,  but  lean,  al 
ways  lean,  sir,  in  the  middle.  When  he  was  laid  out, 
sir,  and  bathed,  his  body  would  have  shamed  most  of 
the  young  men  about  town.  He  always  took  good  care 


2  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

of  himself ;  it  was  those  ^exercises  in  bed,  sir.  Half  an 
hour  every  morning.  Nothing  prevented.  He  called  it 
religion/1  ;  v ;  t  yt\  .^! 

''  Yes,  he  was  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,"  the  young  man 
responded  idly,  glancing  to  the  stock-ticker  and  the  sev 
eral  telephones  his  father  had  installed. 

"  He  was  that,"  Parker  agreed  eagerly.  "  He  was 
lean  and  aristocratic  in  spite  of  his  shoulders  and  bone 
and  chest.  And  you've  inherited  it,  sir,  only  on  more 
generous  lines." 

Young  Francis  Morgan,  inheritor  of  many  millions  as 
well  as  brawn,  lolled  back  luxuriously  in  a  huge  leather 
chair,  stretched  his  legs  after  the  manner  of  a  full-vigored 
menagerie  lion  that  is  over-spilling  with  vigor,  and  glanced 
at  a  headline  of  the  morning  paper  which  informed  him 
of  a  fresh  slide  in  the  Culebra  Cut  at  Panama. 

"  If  I  didn't  know  we  Morgans  didn't  run  that  way," 
he  yawned,  "  I'd  be  fat  already  from  this  existence.  .  .  . 
Eh,  Parker?" 

The  elderly  valet,  who  had  neglected  prompt  reply, 
started  at  the  abrupt  interrogative  interruption  of  the 
pause. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  he  said  hastily.  "  I  mean,  no,  sir. 
You  are  in  the  pink  of  condition." 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  the  young  man  assured  him.  "  I 
may  not  be  getting  fat,  but  I  am  certainly  growing  soft. 
.  .  .  Eh,  Parked?" 

'Yes,  sir.  No,  sir;  no,. I  mean  no,  sir.  You're  just 
the  same  as  when  you  came  home  from  college  three  years 
ago." 

"  And  took  up  loafing  as  a  vocation,"  Francis  laughed. 
"Parker!" 

Parker  was  alert  attention.  His  master  debated  with 
himself  ponderously,  as  if  the  problem  were  of  profound 
importance,  rubbing  the  while  the  bristly  thatch  of  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  3 

small  toothbrush  mustache  he  had  recently  begun  to  sport 
on  his  upper  lip. 

"  Parker,  I'm  going  fishing." 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"  I  ordered  some  rods  sent  up.  Please  joint  them  and 
let  me  give  them  the  once  over.  The  idea  drifts  through 
my  mind  that  two  weeks  in  the  woods  is  what  I  need. 
If  I  don't,  I'll  surely  start  laying  on  flesh  and  disgrace 
the  whole  family  tree.  You  remember  Sir  Henry  ?  - 
The  old  original  Sir  Henry,  the  buccaneer  old  swash 
buckler?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  I've  read  of  him,  sir." 

Parker  had  paused  in  the  doorway  until  such  time  as  the 
ebbing  of  his  young  master's  volubility  would  permit  him 
to  depart  on  his  errand. 

"  Nothing  to  be  proud  of,  the  old  pirate." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  Parker  protested.  "  He  was  Governor 
of  Jamaica.  He  died  respected." 

"  It  was  a  mercy  he  didn't  die  hanged,"  Francis 
laughed.  "  As  it  was,  he's  the  only  disgrace  in  the  family 
that  he  founded.  But  what  I  was  going  to  say  is  that 
I've  looked  him  up  very  carefully.  He  kept  his  figure 
and  he  died  lean  in  the  middle,  thank  God.  It's  a  good 
inheritance  he  passed  down.  We  Morgans  never  found 
his  treasure ;  but  beyond  rubies  is  the  lean-in-the-middle 
legacy 'he  bequeathed  us.  It's  what  is  called  a  fixed  char 
acter  in  the  breed  —  that's  what  the  profs  taught  me  in 
the  biology  course." 

Parker  faded  out  of  the  room  in  the  ensuing  silence, 
during  which  Francis  Morgan  buried  himself  in  the  Pan 
ama  column  and  learned  that  the  canal  was  not  expected 
to  be  open  for  traffic  for  three  weeks  to  come. 

A  telephone  buzzed,  and,  through  the  electric  nerves  of 
a  consummate  civilization,  Destiny  made  the  first  out 
reach  of  its  tentacles  and  contacted  with  Francis  Mor- 


4  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

gan  in  the  library  of  the  mansion  his  father  had  builded 
on  Riverside  Drive. 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Carruthers,"  was  his  protest  into 
the  transmitter.  "Whatever  it  is,  it  is  a  mere  local 
flurry.  Tampico  Petroleum  is  all  right.  It  is  not  a 
gambling  proposition.  It  is  legitimate  investment.  Stay 
with  it.  Tie  to  it  .  .  .  Some  Minnesota  farmer's  come  to 
town  and  is  trying  to  buy  a  block  or  two  because  it  looks 
as  solid  as  it  really  is  ...  What  if  it  is  up  two  points? 
Don't  sell.  Tampico  Petroleum  is  not  a  lottery  or  a 
roulette  proposition.  It's  a  bona  fide  industry.  I  wish 
it  hadn't  been  so  almighty  big  or  I'd  have  financed  it  all 
myself.  .  .  .  Listen,  please,  it's  not  a  flyer.  Our  pres 
ent  contracts  for  tanks  total  over  a  million.  Our  railroad 
and  our  three  .pipe-lines  are  costing  more  than  five  mil 
lions.  Why,  we've  a  hundred  millions  in  producing  wells 
right  now,  and  our  problem  is  to  get  it  down  country  to 
the  oil-steamers.  This  is  the  sober  investment  time.  A 
year  from  now,  or  two  years,  and  your  shares  will  make 
government  bonds  look  like  something  the  cat  brought 
in.  ... 

"  Yes,  yes,  please.  Never  mind  how  the  market  goes. 
Also,  please,  I  didn't  advise  you  to  go  in  in  the  first  place. 
I  never  advised  a  friend  to  that.  But  now  that  they  are 
in,  stick.  It's  solid  as  the  bank  of  England  .  .  .  Yes, 
Dicky  and  I  divided  the  spoils  last  night.  Lovely  party, 
though  Dicky's  got  too  much  temperament  for  bridge  .  .  . 
Yes,  bull  luck  .  .  .  Ha !  Ha !  My  temperament  ?  Ha ! 
Ha!  .  .  .  Yes?  .  .  .  Tell  Harry  I'm  off  and  away  for 
a  couple  of  weeks  .  .  .  Fishing,  troutlets,  you  know,  the 
springtime  and  the  streams,  the  rise  of  sap,  the  budding 
and  the  blossoming  and  all  the  rest.  .  .  .  Yes,  good-by, 
and  hold  on  to  Tampico  Petroleum.  If  it  goes  down, 
after  that  Minnesota  farmer's  bulled  it,  buy  a  little  more. 
I'm  going  to.  It's  finding  money  .  .  .  Yes  .  .  .  Yes, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  5 

surely  .  .  .  It's  too  good  to  dare  sell  on  a  flyer  now, 
because  it  mayn't  ever  again  go  down  ...  Of  course  I 
know  what  I'm  talking  about.  I've  just  had  eight  hours' 
sleep,  and  haven't  had  a  drink  .  .  .  Yes,  yes  .  .  . 
Good-by." 

He  pulled  the  ticker  tape  into  the  comfort  of  his  chair 
and  languidly  ran  over  it,  noting  with  mildly  growing 
interest  the  message  it  conveyed. 

Parker  returned  with  several  slender  rods,  each  a  glit 
tering  gem  of  artisanship  and  art.  Francis  was  out  of 
his  chair,  ticker  flung  aside  and  forgotten  as  with  the  ex 
ultant  joy  of  a  boy  he  examined  the  toys  and,  one  after 
another,  began  trying  them,  switching  them  through  the 
air  till  they  made  shrill  whip-like  noises,  moving  them 
gently  with  prudence  and  precision  under  the  lofty  ceiling 
as  he  made  believe  to  cast  across  the  floor  into  some  un 
seen  pool  of  trout-lurking  mystery. 

A  telephone  buzzed.     Irritation  was  swift  on  his  face. 

"  For  heaven's  sake  answer  it,  Parker/'  he  commanded. 
"If  it  is  some  silly  stock-gambling  female,  tell  her  I'm 
dead,  or  drunk,  or  down  with  typhoid,  or  getting  married, 
or  anything  calamitous." 

After  a  moment's  dialogue,  conducted  on  Parker's  part 
in  the  discreet  and  modulated  tones  that  befitted  abso 
lutely  the  cool,  chaste,  noble  dignity  of  the  room,  with 
a  "  One  moment,  sir/'  into  the  transmitter,  he  muffled 
the  transmitter  with  his  hand  and  said  : 

"  It's  Mr.  Bascom,  sir.     He  wants  you." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Bascom  to  go  to  hell,"  said  Francis,  simu 
lating  so  long  a  cast,  that,  had  it  been  in  verity  a  cast, 
and  had  it  pursued  the  course  his  fascinated  gaze  indicated, 
it  would  have  gone  through  the  window  and  most  likely 
startled  the  gardener  outside  kneeling  over  the  rose  bush 
he  was  planting. 

"  Mr.  Bascom  savs  it's  about  the  market,  sir,  and  that 


O  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

he'd  like  to  talk  with  you  only  a  moment,"  Parker  urged, 
but  so  delicately  and  subduedly  as  to  seem  to  be  merely 
repeating-  an  immaterial  and  unnecessary  message. 

"  All  right."     Francis  carefully  leaned  the  rod  against 
a  table  and  went  to  the  'phone. 

"  Hello/'  he  said  into  the  telephone.     "Yes,  this  is  I, 
Morgan.     Shoot.     What  is  it?" 

He  listened  for  a  minute,  then  interrupted  irritably: 
"Sell  —  hell.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  .  .  .  Of  course,  I'm 
glad  to  know.  Even  if  it  goes  up  ten  points,  which  it 
won't,  hold  on  to  everything.  It  may  be  a  legitimate  ri 
and  it  mayn't  ever  come  down.  It's  solid.  It's  wo 
far  more  than  it's  listed.  I  know,  if  the  public  does 
A  year  from  now  it'll  list  at  two  hundred  .  .  .  that  is, 
if  Mexico  can  cut  the  revolution  stuff.  .  .  .  Whenever  it 
drops  you'll  have  buying  orders  from  me.  .  .  .  Nonsense. 
Who  wants  control?  It's  purely  sporadic  ...  eh?  I 
beg  your  pardon.  I  mean  it's  merely  temporary.  Now 
I'm  going  off  fishing  for  a  fortnight.  If  it  goes  down 
five  points,  buy.  Buy  all  that's  offered.  Say,  when  a 
fellow's  got  a  real  bona  fide  property,  being  bulled  is 
almost  as  bad  as  having  the  bears  after  one  .  .  .  yes. 
.  Sure.  ,  .  Yes.  Good-by." 


And  while  Francis  returned  delightedly  to  his  fishing 
'rods,  Destiny,  in  Thomas  Regan's  down-town  private 
office,  was  working  over  time.  Having  arranged  with 
his  various  brokers  to  buy,  and,  through  his  divers  chan 
nels  of  secret  publicity  having  let  slip  the  cryptic  tip  that 
something  was  wrong  with  Tampico  Petroleum's  con 
cessions  from  the  Mexican  government,  Thomas  Regan 
studied  a  report  from  his  own  oil-expert  emissary  who 
had  spent  two  months  on  the  spot  spying  out  what 
Tampico  Petroleum  really  had  in  sight  and  prospect. 

A  clerk  brought  in  a  card  with  the  information  that 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  7 

the  visitor  was  importunate  and  foreign.  Regan  listened, 
glanced  at  the  card,  and  said : 

"  Tell  this  Mister  Senor  Alvarez  Torres  of  Ciudad  de 
Colon  that  I  can't  see  him." 

Five  minutes  later  the  clerk  was  back,  this  time  with 
a  message  penciled  on  the  card.  Regan  grinned  as  he 
read  it : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Regan, 

"  Honored  Sir :  — 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  I  have  a  tip  on  the 
'cation  of  the  treasure  Sir  Henry  Morgan  buried  in  old  pirate 

ys. 
Vi.  "ALVAREZ  TORRES." 

Regan  shook  his  head,  and  the  clerk  was  nearly  out  of 
the  room  when  his  employer  suddenly  recalled  him. 

"  Show  him  in  —  at  once." 

In  the  interval  of  being  alone,  Regan  chuckled  to  him 
self  as  he  rolled  the  new  idea  over  in  his  mind.  '  The 
unlicked  cub!"  he  muttered  through  the  smoke  of  the 
cigar  he  was  lighting.  "  Thinks  he  can  play  the  lion 
part  old  R.  H.  M.  played.  A  trimming  is  what  he 
needs,  and  old  Grayhead  Thomas  R.  will  see  that  he 
gets  it." 

Senor  Alvarez  Torres'  English  was  as  correct  as  his 
modish  spring  suit,  and  though  the  bleached  yellow  of 
his  skin  advertized  his  Latin-American  origin,  and  though 
his  big  black  eyes  were  eloquent  of  the  mixed  lustres  of 
Spanish  and  Indian  long  compounded,  nevertheless  he 
was  as  thoroughly  New  Yorkish  as  Thomas  Regan  could 
have  wished. 

"  By  great  effort,  and  years  of  research,  I  have  finally 
won  to  the  clew  to  the  buccaneer  gold  of  Sir  Henry 
Morgan,"  he  preambled.  "Of  course  it's  on  the  Mos 
quito  Coast.  I'll  tell  you  now  that  it's  not  a  thousand 
miles  from  the  Chiriqui  Lagoon,  and  that  Bocas  del 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Toro,  within  reason,  may  be  described  as  the  nearest 
town.  I  was  born  there  —  educated  in  Paris,  however 
-and  I  know  the  neighborhood  like  a  book.  A  small 
schooner  —  the  outlay  is  cheap,  most  very  cheap  —  but 
the  returns,  the  reward  —  the  treasure!  " 

Senor  Torres  paused  in  eloquent  inability  to  describe 
more  definitely,  and  Thomas  Regan,  hard  man  used  to 
dealing  with  hard  men,  proceeded  to  bore  into  him  and 
his  data  like  a  cross-examining  criminal  lawyer. 

(  Yes,"  Senor  Torres  quickly  admitted,  "  I  am  some 
what  embarrassed  —  how  shall  I  say  ?  —  for  immediate 
funds." 

'  You  need  the  money,"  the  stock  operator  assured 
him  brutally,  and  he  bowed  pained  acquiescence. 

Much  more  he  admitted  under  the  rapid-fire  interro 
gation.  It  was  true,  he  had  but  recently  lefrBocas  del 
Toro  but  he  hoped  never  again  to  go  back.  And  yet  he 
would  go  back  if  possibly  some  arrangement  .  .  . 

But  Regan  shut  him  off  with  the  abrupt  way  of  the 
master-man  dealing-  with  lesser  fellow  creatures.  He 
wrote  a  check,  in  the  name  of  Alvarez  Torres,  and  when 
that  gentleman  glanced  at  it  he  read  the  figures  of  a 
thousand  dollars. 

"  Now  here's  the  idea,"  said  Regan.  I  put  no  belief 
whatsoever  in  your  story.  But  I  have  a  young  friend  — 
my  heart  is  bound  up  in  the  boy;  but  he  is  too  much 
about  town,  the  white  lights  and  the  white-lighted  ladies, 
and  the  rest  —  you  understand?"  And  Senor  Alvarez 
Torres  bowed  as  one  man  of  the  world  to  another. 
"  Now,  for  the  good  of  his  health,  as  well  as  his  wealth 
and  the  saving  of  his  soul,  the  best  thing  that  could  hap 
pen  to  him  is  a  trip  after  treasure,  adventure,  exercise, 
and  .  .  .  you  readily  understand,  I  am  sure." 

Again  Alvarez  Torres  bowed. 

"  You  need  the  money,"   Regan  continued.     "  Strive 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  9 

to  interest  him.  That  thousand  is  for  your  effort. 
Succeed  in  interesting  him  so  that  he  departs  after  old 
Morgan's  gold,  and  two  thousand  more  is  yours.  So 
thoroughly  succeed  in  interesting  him  that  he  remains 
away  three  months,  two  thousand  more  —  six  months, 
five  thousand. —  Oh,  believe  me,  I  knew  his  father. 
We  were  comrades,  partners,  I--I  might  say,  almost 
brothers.  I  would  sacrifice  any  sum  to  win  his  son  to 
manhood's  wholesome  path.  What  do  you  say?  The 
thousand  is  yours  to  begin  with.  Well?" 

With  trembling  fingers  Sefior  Alvarez  Torres  folded 
and  unfolded  the  check. 

"  I  ...  I  accept,"  he  stammered  and  faltered  in  his 
eagerness.  "  I  ...  I  .  .  .  how  shall  I  say?  ...  I  am 
yours  to  command." 

Five  minutes  later,  as  he  arose  to  go,  fully  instructed 
in  the  part  he  was  to  play  and  with  his  story  of  Mor 
gan's  treasure  revised  to  convincingness  by  the  brass-tack 
business  acumen  of  the  stock-gambler,  he  blurted  out, 
almost  facetiously,  yet  even  more  pathetically : 

"  And  the  funniest  thing  about  it,  Mr.  Regan,  is  that 
it  is  true.  Your  advised  changes  in  my  narrative  make 
it  sound  more  true,  but  true  it  is  under  it  all.  I  need  the 
money.  You  are  most  munificent,  and  I  shall  do  my 
best  ...  I  ...  I  pride  myself  that  I  am  an  artist. 
But  the  real  and  solemn  truth  is  that  the  clew  to  Mor 
gan's  buried  loot  is  genuine.  I  have  had  access  to  rec 
ords  inaccessible  to  the  public,  which  is,  neither  here  nor 
there,  for  the  men  of  my  own  family  —  they  are  family 
records  —  have  had  similar  access,  and  have  wasted  their 
lives  before  me  in  the  futile  search.  Yet  were  they  on 
the  right  clew  —  except  that  their  wits  made  them  miss 
the  spot  by  twenty  miles.  It  was  there  in  the  records. 
They  missed  it,  because  it  was,  I  think,  a  deliberate 
trick,  a  conundrum,  a  puzzle,  a  disguisement,  a  maze, 


IO  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

which  I,  and  I  alone,  have  penetrated  and  solved.  The 
early  navigators  all  played  such  tricks  on  the  charts  they 
drew.  My  Spanish  race  so  hid  the  Hawaiian  Islands  by 
five  degrees  of  longitude." 

All  of  which  was  in  turn  Greek  to  Thomas  Regan, 
who  smiled  his  acceptance  of  listening  and  with  +he  same 
smile  conveyed  his  busy  business-man's  tolerant  unbelief. 

Scarcely  was  Senor  Torres  gone,  when  Francis  Mor 
gan  was  shown  in. 

"  Just  thought  I'd  drop  around  for  a  bit  of  counsel," 
he  said,  greetings  over.  "  And  to  whom  but  you  should 
I  apply,  who  so  closely  played  the  game  with  my  father. 
You  and  he  were  partners,  I  understood,  on  some  of  the 
biggest  deals.  He  always  told  me  to  trust  your  judg 
ment.  And,  well,  here  I  am,  and  I  want  to  go  fishing. 
What's  up  with  Tampico  Petroleum?" 

"  What  is  up?  "  Regan  countered,  with  fine  simulation 
of  ignorance  of  the  very  thing  of  moment  he  was  respon 
sible  for  precipitating.  "Tampico  Petroleum?" 

Francis  nodded,  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  lighted  a 
cigarette,  while  Regan  consulted  the  ticker. 

''Tampico  Petroleum  is  up  —  two  points  —  you 
should  worry,"  he  opined. 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  Francis  concurred.  "  I  should 
worry.  But  just  the  same,  do  you  think  some  bunch, 
onto  the  inside  value  of  it  —  and  it's  big  —  I  speak  under 
the  rose,  you  know,  I  mean  in  absolute  confidence?" 
Regan  nodded.  "  It  is  big.  It  is  right.  It  is  the  real 
thing.  It  is  legitimate.  Now  this  activity  —  would  you 
think  that  somebody,  or  some  bunch,  is  trying  to  get 
control?  " 

His  father's  associate,  with  the  reverend  gray  of  hair 
thatching  his  roof  of  crooked  brain,  shook  the  thatch. 

"  Why,"  he  amplified,  "  it  may  be  just  a  flurry,  or  it 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  II 

may  be  a  hunch  on  the  stock  public  that  it's  really  good. 
What  do  you  say?  " 

"  Of  course  it's  good,"  was  Francis's  warm  response. 
"  I've  got  reports,  Regan,  so  good  they'd  make  your  hair 
stand  up.  As  I  tell  all  my  friends,  this  is  the  real  legiti 
mate.  It's  a  damned  shame  I  had  to  let  the  public  in  on 
it.  It  was  so  big,  I  just  had  to.  Even  all  the  money  my 
father  left  me,  couldn't  swing  it  —  I  mean,  free  money, 
not  the  stuff  tied  up  —  money  to  work  with." 

"Are  you  short?"  the  older  man  queried. 

"  Oh,  I've  got  a  tidy  bit  to  operate  with,"  was  the 
airy  reply  of  youth. 

"  You   mean  ...    ?  " 

"  Sure.  Just  that.  If  she  drops,  I'll  buy.  It's  find 
ing  money." 

"  Just  about  how  far  would  you  buy?  "  was  the  next 
searching  interrogation,  masked  by  an  expression  of 
mingled  good  humor  and  approbation. 

"  All  I've  got,"  came  Francis  Morgan's  prompt  an 
swer.  "  I  tell  you,  Regan,  it's  immense." 

"  I  haven't  looked  into  it  to  amount  to  anything,  Fran 
cis;  but  I  will  say  from  the  little  I  know  that  it  listens 
good." 

"  Listens !  I  tell  you,  Regan,  it's  the  simon-pure, 
straight  legitimate,  and  it's  a  shame  to  have  it  listed  at  all. 
I  don't  have  to  wreck  anybody  or  anything  to  pull  it 
across.  The  world  will  be  better  for  my  shooting  into  it 
I  am  afraid  to  say  how  many  hundreds  of  millions  of 
barrels  of  real  oil  —  say,  I've  got  one  well  alone,  in 
the  Huasteca  field,  that's  gushed  27,000  barrels  a  day  for 
seven  months.  And  it's  still  doing  it.  That's  the  drop 
in  the  bucket  we've  got  piped  to  market  now.  And  it's 
twenty-two  gravity,  and  carries  less  than  two-tenths  of 
one  per  cent,  of  sediment.  And  there's  one  gusher  — 


12  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

sixty  miles  of  pipe  to  build  to  it,  and  pinched  down  to  the 
limit  of  safety,  that's  pouring  out  all  over  the  landscape 
just  about  seventy  thousand  barrels  a  day. —  Of  course, 
all  in  confidence,  you  know.  We're  doing  nicely,  and  I 
don't  want  Tampico  Petroleum  to  skyrocket." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that,  my  lad.  You've  got  to 
get  your  oil  piped  and  the  Mexican  revolution  straight 
ened  out  before  ever  Tampica  Petroleum  soars.  You 
go  fishing  and  forget  it."  Regan  paused  with  finely 
simulated  sudden  recollection,  and  picked  up  Alvarez 
Torres'  card  with  the  penciled  note.  "  Look  who's  just 
been  to  see  me."  Apparently  struck  with  an  idea,  Regan 
retained  the  card  a  moment.  "  Why  go  fishing  for  mere 
trout?  After  all,  it's  only  recreation.  Here's  a  thing 
to  go  fishing  after  that  there's  real  recreation  in,  full- 
size  man's  recreation,  and  not  the  Persian-palace  recrea 
tion  of  an  Adirondack  camp,  with  ice  and  servants  and 
electric  push-buttons.  Your  father  always  was  more 
than  a  mite  proud  of  that  old  family  pirate.  He  claimed 
to  look  like  him,  and  you  certainly  look  like  your  dad/' 

"  Sir  Henry,"  Francis  smiled,  reaching  for  the  card. 
"  So  am  I  a  mite  proud  of  the  old  scoundrel." 

He  looked  up  questioningly  from  the  reading  of  the 
card. 

"  He's  a  plausible  cuss,"  Regan  explained.  "  Claims 
to  have  been  born  right  down  there  on  the  Mosquito 
Coast  and  to  have  got  the  tip  from  private  papers  in  his 
family.  Not  that  I  believe  a  word  of  it.  I  haven't  time 
or  interest  to  get  started  believing  in  stuff  outside  my 
own  field." 

"  Just  the  same,  Sir  Henry  died  practically  a  poor 
man,"  Francis  asserted,  the  lines  of  the  Morgan  stub 
bornness  knitting  themselves  for  a  flash  on  his  brows. 
"  And  they  never  did  find  any  of  his  buried  treasure." 

"  Good  fishing,"  Regan  girded  good-humoredly. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  13 

"  I'd  like  to  meet  this  Alvarez  Torres  just  the  same," 
the  young  man  responded. 

"  Fool's  gold,"  Regan  continued.  '  Though  I  must 
admit  that  the  cuss  is  most  exasperatingly  plausible. 
Why,  if  I  were  younger  —  but  oh,  the  devil,  my  work's 
cut  out  for  me  here." 

"  Do  you  know  where  I  can  find  him?"  Francis  was 
asking  the  next  moment,  all  unwittingly  putting  his  neck 
into  the  net  of  tentacles  that  Destiny,  in  the  visible  incar 
nation  of  Thomas  Regan,  was  casting  out  to  snare  him. 

The  next  morning  the  meeting  took  place  in  Regan's 
office.  Sefior  Alvares  Torres  started  and  controlled 
himself  at  first  sight  of  Francis'  face.  This  was  not 
missed  by  Regan,  who  grinningly  demanded : 

"  Looks  like  the  old  pirate  himself,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,  the  resemblance  is  most  striking,"  Torres  lied, 
or  half-lied,  for  he  did  recognize  the  resemblance  to  the 
portraits  he  had  seen  of  Sir  Henry  Morgan;  although  at 
the  same  time  under  his  eyelids  he  saw  the  vision  of 
another  and  living  man  who,  no  less  than  Francis  and  Sir 
Henry,  looked  as  much  like  both  of  them  as  either  looked 
like  the  other. 

Francis  was  youth  that  was  not  to  be  denied.  Mod 
ern  maps  and  ancient  charts  were  pored  over,  as  well  as 
old  documents,  handwritten  in  faded  ink  on  time-yel 
lowed  paper,  and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  announced 
that  the  next  fish  he  caught  would  be  on  either  the  Bull 
or  the  Calf  —  the  two  islets  off  the  Lagoon  of  Chiriqui 
on  one  or  the  other  of  which  Torres  averred  the  treasure 
lay. 

"  I'll  catch  to-night's  train  for  New  Orleans,"  Francis 
announced.  "  That  will  just  make  connection  with  one 
of  the  United  Fruit  Company's  boats  for  Colon  —  oh, 
I  had  it  all  looked  up  before  I  slept  last  night." 


14  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  But  don't  charter  a  schooner  at  Colon,"  Torres  ad 
vised.  '  Take  the  overland  trip  by  horseback  to  Belen. 
There's  the  place  to  charter,  with  unsophisticated  native 
sailors  and  everything  else  unsophisticated." 

"  Listens  good !  "  Francis  agreed.  "  I  always  wanted 
to  see  that  country  down  there.  You'll  be  ready  to  catch 
,to-night's  train,  Sefior  Torres?  ...  Of  course,  you  un 
derstand,  under  the  circumstances,  I'll  be  the  treasurer 
and  foot  the  expenses." 

But  at  a  privy  glance  from  Regan,  Alvarez  Torres  lied 
with  swift  efficientness. 

"  I  must  join  you  later,  I  regret,  Mr.  Morgan.  Some 
little  business  that  presses  —  how  shall  I  say  ?  —  an  insig 
nificant  little  lawsuit  must  be  settled  first.  Not  that  the 
sum  at  issue  is  important.  But  it  is  a  family  matter, 
and  therefore  gravely  important.  We  Torres  have  our 
pride,  which  is  a  silly  thing,  I  acknowledge,  in  this  coun 
try,  but  which  with  us  is  very  serious." 

"  He  can  join  afterward,  and  straighten  you  out  if 
you've  missed  the  scent,"  Regan  assured  Francis.  "  And, 
before  it  slips  your  mind,  it  might  be  just  as  well  to 
arrange  with  Sefior  Torres  some  division  of  the  loot 
...  if  you  ever  find  it." 

"  What  would  you  say?  "  Francis  asked. 

"  Equal  division,  fifty-fifty,"  Regan  answered,  mag 
nificently  arranging  the  apportionment  between  the  two 
men  of  something  he  was  certain  did  not  exist. 

"And  you  will  follow  after  as  soon  as  you  can?" 
Francis  asked  the  Latin  American.  "  —  Regan,  take 
hold  of  his  little  law  affair  yourself  and  expedite  it, 
won't  you?  " 

"  Sure  boy,"  was  the  answer.  "  And,  if  it's  needed, 
:shall  I  advance  cash  to  Senor  Alvarez  ?  " 

"  Fine !  "  Francis  shook  their  hands  in  both  of  his. 
*"  It  will  save  me  bother.  And  I've  got  to  rush  to  pack 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  15 

and  break  engagements  and  catch  that  train.  So  long, 
Regan.  Good-by,  Senor  Torres,  until  we  meet  some 
where  around  Bocas  del  Torro,  or  in  a  little  hole  in  the 
ground  on  the  Bull  or  the  Calf  —  you  say  you  think  it's 
the  Calf  ?  Well,  until  then  —  adios !  " 

And  Senor  Alvarez  Torres  remained  with  Regan  some 
time  longer,  receiving  explicit  instructions  for  the  part 
he  was  to  play,  beginning  with  retardation  and  delay 
of  Francis'  expedition,  and  culminating  in  similar  re 
tardation  and  delay  always  to  be  continued. 

"  In  short,"  Regan  concluded,  "  I  don't  almost  care  if 
he  never  comes  back  —  if  you  can  keep  him  down  there 
for  the  good  of  his  health  that  long  and  longer." 


CHAPTER  II 

MONEY,  like  youth,  will  not  be  denied,  and  Francis 
Morgan,  who  was  the  man-legal  and  nature-certain  rep 
resentative  of  both  youth  and  money,  found  himself  one 
afternoon,  three  weeks  after  he  had  said  good-by  to  Re 
gan,  becalmed  close  under  the  land  on  board  his  schooner, 
the  Ang clique.  The  water  was  glassy,  the  smooth  roll 
scarcely  perceptible,  and,  in  sheer  ennui  and  overplus  of 
energy  that  likewise  declined  to  be  denied,  he  asked  the 
captain,  a  breed,  half  Jamaica  negro  and  half  Indian,  to 
order  a  small  skiff  over  the  side. 

"  Looks  like  I  might  shoot  a  parrot  or  a  monkey  or 
something,"  he  explained,  searching  the  jungle-clad  shore, 
half  a  mile  away,  through  a  twelve  power  Zeiss  glass. 

"  Most  problematic,  sir,  that  you  are  bitten  by  a 
labam,  which  is  deadly  viper  in  these  parts,"  grinned  the 
breed  skipper  and  owner  of  the  Angelique,  who,  from  his 
Jamaica  father,  had  inherited  the  gift  of  tongues. 

But  Francis  was  not  to  be  deterred ;  for  at  that  moment, 
through  his  glass,  he  had  picked  out,  first,  in  the  middle 
ground,  a  white  hacienda,  and  second,  on  the  beach,  a 
white-clad  woman's  form,  and  further,  had  seen  that  she 
was  scrutinizing  him  and  the  schooner  through  a  pair  of 
binoculars. 

"  Put  the  skiff  over,  skipper,"  he  ordered.  "  —  Who 
lives  around  here?  —  white  folks?" 

"  The  Enrico  Solano  family,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 
"  My  word,  they  are  important  gentlefolk,  old  Spanish, 
and  they  own  the  entire  general  landscape  from  the  sea 
to  the  Cordilleras  and  half  of  the  Chiriqui  Lagoon  as  well. 
They  are  very  poor,  most  powerful  rich  ...  in  land- 

16 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  '     I/ 

scape  —  and  they  are  prideful  and  fiery  as  cayenne  pep- 
per." 

As  Francis,  in  the  tiny  skiff,  rowed  shoreward,  the 
skipper's  alert  eye  noted  that  he  had  neglected  to  take 
along  either  rifle  or  shotgun  for  the  contemplated  parrot 
or  monkey.  And,  next,  the  skipper's  eye  picked  up  the 
white-clad  woman's  figure  against  the  dark  edge  of  the 
jungle. 

Straight  to  the  white  beach  of  coral  sand  Francis 
rowed,  not  trusting  himself  to  look  over  his  shoulder 
to  see  if  the  woman  remained  or  had  vanished.  In  his 
mind  was  merely  a  young  man's  healthy  idea  of  encoun 
tering  a  bucolic  young  lady  or  a  half-wild  white  woman 
for  that  matter,  or  at  the  best  a  very  provincial  one, 
with  whom  he  could  fool  and  fun  away  a  few  minutes 
of  the  calm  that  fettered  the  Ang clique  to  immobility. 
When  the  skiff  grounded,  he  stepped  out  and  with  one 
sturdy  arm  lifted  its  nose  high  enough  up  the  sand  to 
fasten  it  by  its  own  weight.  Then  he  turned  around. 
The  beach  to  the  jungle  was  bare.  He  strode  forward 
confidently.  Any  traveler,  on  so  strange  a  shore,  had 
a  right  to  seek  inhabitants  for  information  on  his  way 
—  was  the  idea  he  was  acting  out. 

And  he,  who  had  anticipated  a  few  moments  of  diver 
sion  merely,  was  diverted  beyond  his  fondest  expecta 
tions.  Like  a  jack-in-the-box,  the  woman,  who  in  the 
flash  of  vision  vouchsafed  him  demonstrated  that  she  was 
a  girl-woman,  ripely  mature  and  yet  mostly  girl,  sprang 
out  of  the  green  wall  of  jungle  and  with  both  hands 
seized  his  arm.  The  hearty  weight  of  grip  in  the  seizure 
surprised  him.  He  fumbled  his  hat  off  with  his  free 
hand  and  bowed  to  the  strange  woman  with  the  imper- 
turbableness  of  a  Morgan,  New  York  trained  aiid  disci 
plined  to  be  surprised  at  nothing,  and  received  another 
surprise,  or  several  surprises  compounded.  Not  alone 


l8  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

was  it  her  semi-brunette  beauty  that  impacted  upon  him 
with  the  weight  of  a  blow,  but  it  was  her  gaze,  driven 
into  him,  that  was  all  of  sternness.  Almost  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  must  know  her.  Strangers,  in  his  experience, 
never  so  looked  at  one  another. 

The  double  grip  on  his  arm  became  a  draw,  as  she  mut 
tered  tensely : 

"Quick!     Follow  me!" 

A  moment  he  resisted.  She  shook  him  in  the  fervor 
of  her  desire  and  strove  to  pull  him  toward  her  and  after 
her.  With  the  feeling  that  it  was  some  unusual  game, 
such  as  one  might  meet  up  with  on  the  coast  of  Central 
America,  he  yielded,  smilingly,  scarcely  knowing  whether 
he  followed  voluntarily  or  was  being  dragged  into  the 
jungle  by  her  impetuosity. 

"  Do  as  I  do,"  she  shot  back  at  him  over  her  shoulder, 
by  this  time  leading  him  with  one  hand  of  hers  in  his. 

He  smiled  and  obeyed,  crouching  when  she  crouched, 
doubling  over  when  she  doubled,  while  memories  of  John 
Smith  and  Pocahontas  glimmered  up  in  his  fancy. 

Abruptly  she  checked  him  and  sat  down,  her  hand 
directing  him  to  sit  beside  her  ere  she  released  him  and 
pressed  it  to  her  heart  while  she  panted : 

"  Thank   God!     Oh,   merciful  Virgin!" 

In  imitation,  such  having  been  her  will  of  him,  and 
such  seeming  to  be  the  cue  of  the  game,  he  smilingly 
pressed  his  own  hand  to  his  heart,  although  he  called 
neither  on  God  nor  the  Virgin. 

"  Won't  you  ever  be  serious  ?  "  she  flashed  at  him,  not 
ing  his  action. 

And  Francis  was  immediately  and  profoundly,  as  well 
as  naturally  serious. 

"  My  dear  lady  ..."  he  began. 

But  an  abrupt  gesture  checked  him;  and,  with  grow 
ing  wonder,  he  watched  her  bend  and  listen,  and  heard 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  IQ 

the  movement  of  bodies  padding  down  some  runway 
several  yards  away. 

With  a  soft  warm  palm  pressed  commandingly  to  his 
to  be  silent,  she  left  him  with  the  abruptness  that  he  had 
already  come  to  consider  as  customary  with  her,  and 
slipped  away  down  the  runway.  Almost  he  whistled  his 
astonishment.  He  might  have  whistled,  had  he  not  heard 
her  voice,  not  distant,  in  Spanish,  sharply  interrogate 
men  whose  Spanish  voices,  half-humbly,  half-insistently 
and  half-rebelliously,  answered  her. 

He  heard  them  move  on,  still  talking,  and,  after  five 
minutes  of  dead  silence,  heard  her  call  for  him  peremp 
torily  to  come  out. 

"  Gee !  I  wonder  what  Regan  would  do  under  such 
circumstances!  "  he  smiled  to  himself  as  he  obeyed. 

He  followed  her,  no  longer  hand  in  hand,  through  the 
jungle  to  the  beach.  When  she  paused,  he  came  beside 
her  and  faced  her,  still  under  the  impress  of  the  fantasy 
which  possessed  him  that  it  was  a  game. 

"Tag!"  he  laughed,  touching  her  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Tag !  "  he  reiterated.  "  You're  It !  " 

The  anger  of  her  blazing  dark  eyes  scorched  him. 

'You  fool!"  she  cried,  lifting  her  finger,  with  what 
he  considered  undue  intimacy,  to  his  toothbrush  mustache. 
"  As  if  that  could  disguise  you !  " 

"But  my  dear  lady  -  '  he  began  to  protest  his  cer 
tain  unacquaintance  with  her. 

Her  retort,  which  broke  off  his  speech,  was  as  unreal 
and  bizarre  as  everything  else  which  had  gone  before. 
So  quick  was  it,  that  he  failed  to  see  whence  the  tiny 
silver  revolver  had  been  drawn,  the  muzzle  of  which  was 
not  presented  merely  toward  his  abdomen  but  pressed 
closely  against  it. 

"  My  dear  lady  — "  he  tried  again. 

"  I  won't  talk  with  you,"  she  shut  him  off.     "  Go  back 


20  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

to  your  schooner,  and  go  away-  He  guessed  the 
inaudible  sob  of  the  pause,  ere  she  concluded,  "  For 
ever." 

This  time  his  mouth  opened  to  speech  that  was  aborted 
on  his  lips  by  the  stiff  thrust  of  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon 
into  his  abdomen. 

"If  you  ever  come  back  —  the  Madonna  forgive  me 
-  I  shall  shoot  you  myself." 

"  Guess  I'd  better  go,  then,"  he  uttered  airily,  as  he 
turned  to  the  skiff,  toward  which  he  walked  in  stately 
embarrassment,  half-filled  with  laughter  for  himself  and 
for  the  ridiculous  and  incomprehensible  figure  he  was 
cutting. 

Endeavoring  to  retain  a  last  shred  of  dignity,  he  took 
no  notice  that  she  had  followed  him.  As  he  lifted  the 
skiff's  nose  from  the  sand,  he  was  aware  that  a  faint 
wind  was  rustling  the  palm  fronds.  A  land  breeze 
was  darkening  the  water  close  at  hand,  while,  far  out 
across  the  mirrored  water,  the  outlying  keys  of  Chiriqui 
Lagoon  shimmered  like  a  mirage  above  the  dark-crisp 
ing  water. 

A  sob  compelled  him  to  desist  from  stepping  into  the 
skiff,  and  to  turn  his  head.  The  strange  young  woman, 
revolver  dropped  to  her  side,  was  crying.  His  step 
back  to  her  was  instant,  and  the  touch  of  his  hand  on 
her  arm  was  sympathetic  and  inquiring.  She  shud 
dered  at  his  touch,  drew  away  from  him,  and  gazed  at 
him  reproachfully  through  her  tears.  With  a  shrug  of 
shoulders  to  her  many  moods  and  of  surrender  to  the  in- 
comprehensibleness  of  the  situation,  he  was  about  to 
turn  to  the  boat,  when  she  stopped  him. 

"  At  least  you  -  "  she  began,  then  faltered  and  swal 
lowed  " —  you  might  kiss  me  good-by." 

She  advanced  impulsively,  with  outstretched  arms,  the 
revolver  dangling  incongruously  from  her  right  hand. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  21 

Francis  hesitated  a  puzzled  moment,  then  gathered  her  in 
to  receive  an  astounding  passionate  kiss  on  his  lips  ere 
she  dropped  her  head  on  his  shoulder  in  a  breakdown  of 
tears.  Despite  his  amazement  he  was  aware  of  the  re 
volver  pressing  flat-wise  against  his  back  between  the 
shoulders.  She  lifted  her  tear-wet  face  and  kissed  him 
again  and  again,  and  he  wondered  to  himself  if  he  were 
a  cad  for  meeting  her  kisses  with  almost  equal  and  fully 
as  mysterious  impulsiveness. 

With  a  feeling  that  he  did  not  in  the  least  care  how 
long  the  tender  episode  might  last,  he  was  startled  by 
her  quick  drawing  away  from  him,  as  anger  and  con 
tempt  blazed  back  in  her  face  and  as  she  menacingly 
directed  him  with  the  revolver  to  get  into  the  boat. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  to  say  that  he  could 
not  say  no  to  a  lovely  lady,  and  obeyed,  sitting  to  the  oars 
and  facing  her  as  he  began  rowing  away. 

"  The  Virgin  save  me  from  my  wayward  heart,"  she 
cried  with  her  free  hand  tearing  a  locket  from  her  bosom, 
and,  in  a  shower  of  golden  beads,  flinging  the  orna 
ment  into  the  water  midway  between  them. 

From  the  edge  of  the  jungle  he  saw  three  men,  armed 
with  rifles,  run  toward  her  where  she  had  sunk  down 
in  the  sand.  In  the  midst  of  lifting  her  up,  they  caught 
sight  of  Francis,  who  had  begun  rowing  a  strong  stroke. 
Over  his  shoulder  he  glimpsed  the  Ang clique,  close-hauled 
and  slightly  heeling,  cutting  through  the  water  toward 
him.  The  next  moment,  one  of  the  trio  on  the  beach, 
a  bearded  elderly  man,  was  directing  the  girl's  binocu 
lars  on  him.  And  the  moment  after,  dropping  the 
glasses,  he  was  taking  aim  with  his  rifle. 

The  bullet  spat  on  the  water  within  a  yard  of  the 
skiff's  side,  and  Francis  saw  the  girl  spring  to  her  feet, 
knock  up  the  rifle  with  her  arm,  and  spoil  the  second 
shot.  Next,  pulling  lustily,  he  saw  the  men  separate 


22  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

from  her  to  sight  their  rifles,  and  saw  her  threaten  them 
with  the  revolver  into  lowering  their  weapons. 

The  Ang clique,  thrown  up  into  the  wind  to  stop  way, 
foamed  alongside,  and  with  an  agile  leap  Francis  was 
aboard,  while  already,  the  skipper  putting  the  wheel 
up,  the  schooner  was  paying  off  and  filling.  With  boy 
ish  zest,  Francis  wafted  a  kiss  of  farewell  to  the  girl 
who  was  staring  toward  him,  and  saw  her  collapse  on 
the  shoulders  of  the  bearded  elderly  man. 

"  Cayenne  pepper,  eh  ?  —  those  damned  horrible  crazy- 
proud  Solanos,"  the  breed  skipper  flashed  at  Francis  with 
white  teeth  of  laughter. 

"Just  bugs  —  clean  crazy,  nobody  at  home,"  Francis 
laughed  back,  as  he  sprang  to  the  rail  to  waft  further 
kisses  to  the  strange  damsel. 

Before  the  land  wind,  the  Angelique  made  the  outer 
rim  of  Chiriqui  Lagoon  and  the  Bull  and  the  Calf,  some 
fifty  miles  farther  along  on  the  rim,  by  midnight,  when 
the  skipper  hove  to  to  wait  for  daylight.  After  break 
fast,  rowed  by  a  Jamaica  negro  sailor  in  the  skiff,  Francis 
landed  to  reconnoiter  on  the  Bull,  which  was  the  larger 
island,  and  which  the  skipper  had  told  him  he  might  find 
occupied  at  that  season  of  the  year  by  turtle-catching 
Indians  from  the  mainland. 

And  Francis  very  immediately  found  that  he  had  trav 
ersed  not  merely  thirty  degrees  of  latitude  from  New  York 
but  thirty  hundred  years,  or  centuries  for  that  matter, 
from  the  last  word  of  civilization  to  almost  the  first  word 
of  the  primeval.  Naked,  except  for  breech-clouts  of 
gunny-sacking,  armed  with  cruelly  heavy  hacking  blades 
of  machetes,  the  turtle-catchers  were  swift  in  proving 
themselves  arrant  beggars  and  dangerous  man-killers. 
The  Bull  belonged  to  them,  they  told  him  through  the 
medium  of  his  Jamaican  sailor's  interpreting;  but  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  23 

Calf,  which  used  to  belong  to  them  for  the  turtle  season 
now  was  possessed  by  a  madly  impossible  Gringo,  whose 
reckless,  dominating  ways  had  won  from  them  the  respect 
of  fear  for  a  two-legged  human  creature  who  was  more 
fearful  than  themselves. 

While  Francis,  for  a  silver  dollar,  dispatched  one  of 
them  with  a  message  to  the  mysterious  Gringo  that  he 
desired  to  call  on  him,  the  rest  of  them  clustered  about 
Francis'  skiff,  whining  for  money,  glowering  upon  him, 
and  even  impudently  stealing  his  pipe,  yet  warm  from 
his  lips,  which  he  had  laid  beside  him  in  the  stern- 
sheets.  Promptly  he  had  laid  a  blow  on  the  ear  of  the 
thief,  and  the  next  thief  who  seized  it,  and  recovered  the 
pipe.  Machetes  out  and  sun-glistening  their  clean- 
slicing  menace,  Francis  covered  and  controlled  the  gang 
with  an  automatic  pistol;  and,  while  they  drew  apart  in 
a  group  and  whispered  ominously,  he  made  the  discovery 
that  his  lone  sailor-interpreter  was  a  weak  brother  and 
received  his  returned  messenger. 

The  negro  went  over  to  the  turtle-catchers  and  talked 
with  a  friendliness  and  subservience  the  tones  of  which 
Francis  did  not  like.  The  messenger  handed  him  his 
note  across  which  was  scrawled  in  pencil : 

"  Vamos." 

"  Guess  I'll  have  to  go  across  myself,"  Francis  told  the 
negro  whom  he  had  beckoned  back  to  him. 

"  Better  be  very  careful  and  utmostly  cautious,  sir," 
the  negro  warned  him.  "  These  animals  without  reason 
are  very  problematically  likely  to  act  most  unreasonably, 
sir." 

"  Get  into  the  boat  and  row  me  over,"  Francis  com 
manded  shortly. 

"  No,  sir,  I  regret  much  to  say,"  was  the  black  sailor's 
answer.  "  I  signed  on,  sir,  as  a  sailor  to  Captain 
Trefethen,  but  I  didn't  sign  on  for  no  suicide,  and  I 


24  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

can't  see  my  way  to  rowin'  you  over,  sir,  to  certain  death. 
Best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  get  out  of  this  hot  place 
that's  certainly  and  without  peraclventure  of  a  doubt 
goin'  to  get  hotter  for  us  if  we  remain,  sir." 

In  huge  disgust  and  scorn  Francis  pocketed  his  auto 
matic,  turned  his  back  on  the  sacking-clad  savages,  and 
walked  away  through  the  palms.  Where  a  great  bowlder 
of  coral  rock  had  been  upthrust  by  some  ancient  restless 
ness  of  the  earth,  he  came  down  to  the  beach.  On  the 
shore  of  the  Calf,  across  the  narrow  channel,  he  made  out 
a  dinghy  drawn  up.  Drawn  up  on  his  own  side  was  a 
crank-looking  and  manifestly  leaky  dugout  canoe.  As 
he  tilted  the  water  out  of  it,  he  noticed  that  the  turtle 
catchers  had  followed  and  were  peering  at  him  from  the 
edge  of  the  cocoanuts,  though  his  weak-hearted  sailor 
was  not  in  sight. 

To  paddle  across  the  channel  was  a  matter  of  moments, 
but  scarcely  was  he  on  the  beach  of  the  Calf  when  further 
inhospitality  greeted  him  on  the  part  of  a  tall,  barefooted 
young  man,  who  stepped  from  behind  a  palm,  automatic 
pistol  in  hand,  and  snouted. 

"Vamos!     Get  out!     Scut!" 

"  Ye  gods  and  little  fishes !  "  Francis  grinned,  half- 
humorously,  half-seriously.  "  A  fellow  can't  move  in 
these  parts  without  having  a  gun  shoved  in  his  face. 
And  everybody  says  get  out  pronto." 

"  Nobody  invited  you,"  the  stranger  retorted. 
"  You're  intruding.  Get  off  my  island.  I'll  give  you 
half  a  minute." 

"  I'm  getting  sore,  friend,"  Francis  assured  him  truth 
fully,  at  the  same  time,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
measuring  the  distance  to  the  nearest  palm-trunk. 
"  Everybody  I  meet  around  here  is  crazy  and  discour 
teous  and  peevishly  anxious  to  be  rid  of  my  presence, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  25 

and  they've  just  got  me  feeling  that  way  myself.  Be 
sides,  just  because  you  tell  me  it's  your  island  is  no 
proof  - 

The  swift  rush  he  made  to  the  shelter  of  the  palm  left 
his  sentence  unfinished.  His  arrival  behind  the  trunk 
was  simultaneous  with  the  arrival  of  a  bullet  that 
thudded  into  the  other  side  of  it. 

"  Now,  just  for  that !  "  he  called  out,  as  he  centered  a 
bullet  into  the  trunk  of  the  other  man's  palm. 

The  next  few  minutes  they  blazed  away,  or  waited  for 
calculated  shots,  and  when  Francis'  eighth  and  last  had 
been  fired,  he  was  unpleasantly  certain  that  he  had 
counted  only  seven  shots  for  the  stranger.  He  cau 
tiously  exposed  part  of  his  sun-helmet,  held  in  his  hand, 
and  had  it  perforated. 

"What  gun  are  you  using?"  he  asked  with  cool 
politeness. 

"  Colt's,"  came  the  answer. 

Francis  stepped  boldly  into  the  open,  saying :  '  Then 
you're  all  out.  I  counted  'em.  Eight.  Now  we  can 
talk." 

The  stranger  stepped  out,  and  Francis  could  not  help 
admiring  the  fine  figure  of  him,  despite  the  fact  that  a 
pair  of  dirty  canvas  pants,  a  cotton  undershirt,  and  a 
floppy  sombrero  constituted  his  garmenting.  Further, 
it  seemed  he  had  previously  known  him,  though  it  did  not 
enter  his  mind  that  he  was  looking  at  a  replica  of  him 
self. 

"Talk!"  the  stranger  sneered,  throwing  down  his 
pistol  and  drawing  a  knife.  "  Now  we'll  just  cut  off 
your  ears,  and  maybe  scalp  you." 

"  Gee !  You're  sweet-natured  and  gentle  animals  in 
this  neck  of  the  woods,"  Francis  retorted,  his  anger  and 
disgust  increasing.  He  drew  his  own  hunting  knife, 
brand  new  from  the  shop  and  shining.  -  Say,  let's 


26  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

wrestle,    and    cut    out   this    ten-twenty-and-thirty    knife 
stuff." 

"  I  want  your  ears,"  the  stranger  answered  pleasantly, 
as  he  slowly  advanced. 

"  Sure.  First  down,  and  the  man  who  wins  the  fall 
gets  the  other  fellow's  ears." 

"Agreed."  The  young  man  in  the' canvas  trousers 
sheathed  his  knife. 

'  Too  bad  there  isn't  a  moving  picture  camera  to  film 
this,"  Francis  girded,  sheathing  his  own  knife.  "  I'm 
sore  as  a  boil.  I  feel  like  a  heap  bad  Injun.  Watch  out ! 
I'm  coming  in  a  rush!  Anyway  and  everyway  for  the 
first  fall!" 

Action  and  word  went  together,  and  his  glorious  rush 
ended  ignominiously,  for  the  stranger,  apparently  braced 
for  the  shock,  yielded  the  instant  their  bodies  met  and 
fell  over  on  his  back,  at  the  same  time  planting  his  foot 
in  Francis'  abdomen  and,  from  the  back  purchase  on  the 
ground,  transforming  Francis'  rush  into  a  wild  forward 
somersault. 

The  fall  on  the  sand  knocked  most  of  Francis'  breath 
out  of  him,  and  the  flying  body  of  his  foe,  impacting  on 
him,  managed  to  do  for  what  little  breath  was  left  him. 
As  he  lay  speechless  on  his  back,  he  observed  the  man 
on  top  of  him  gazing  down  at  him  with  sudden  curi 
osity. 

"  What  d'  you  want  to  wear  a  mustache  for?"  the 
stranger  muttered. 

"  Go  on  and  cut  'em  off,"  Francis  gasped,  with  the  first 
of  his  returning  breath.  '  The  ears  are  yours,  but  the 
mustache  is  mine.  It  is  not  in  the  bond.  Besides,  that 
fall  was  straight  jiu  jitsu." 

'  You  said  '  anyway  and  everyway  for  the  first  fall,'  ' 
the  other  quoted  laughingly.  "  As  for  your  ears,  keep 
them.  I  never  intended  to  cut  them  off,  and  now  that 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  27 

I  look  at  them  closely  the  less  I  want  them.  Get  up  and 
get  out  of  here.  I've  licked  you.  Vamos!  And  don't 
come  sneaking  around  here  again!  Git!  Scut!" 

In  greater  disgust  than  ever,  to  which  was  added  the 
humiliation  of  defeat,  Francis  turned  down  to  the  beach 
toward  his  canoe. 

"  Say,  Little  Stranger,  do  you  mind  leaving  your 
card?  "  the  victor  called  after  him. 

"  Visiting  cards  and  cut-throating  don't  go  together," 
Francis  shot  back  across  his  shoulder,  as  he  squatted  in 
the  canoe  and  dipped  his  paddle.  "  My  name's  Mor 
gan." 

Surprise  and  startlement  were  the  stranger's  portion, 
as  he  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  then  changed  his  mind 
and  murmured  to  himself,  "Same  stock  —  no  wonder 
we  look  alike." 

Still  in  the  throes  of  disgust,  Francis  regained  the  shore 
of  the  Bull,  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  dugout,  filled 
and  lighted  his  pipe,  and  gloomily  meditated.  Crazy, 
everybody,  was  the  run  of  his  thought.  Nobody  acts 
with  reason.  I'd  like  to  see  old  Regan  try  to  do  business 
with  these  people.  They'd  get  his  ears. 

Could  he  have  seen,  at  that  moment,  the  young  man  of 
the  canvas  pants  and  of  familiar  appearance,  he  would 
have  been  certain  that  naught  but  lunacy  resided  in  Latin 
America ;  for  the  young  man  in  question,  inside  a  grass- 
thatched  hut  in  the  heart  of  the  island,  grinning  to  him 
self  as  he  uttered  aloud,  "  I  guess  I  put  the  fear  of  God 
into  that  particular  member  of  the  Morgan  family,"  had 
just  begun  to  stare  at  a  photographic  reproduction  of  an 
oil  painting  on  the  wall  of  the  original  Sir  Henry  Morgan. 

"  Well,  Old  Pirate,"  he  continued,  grinning,  "  two  of 
your  latest  descendants  came  pretty  close  to  getting  each 
other  with  automatics  that  would  make  your  antedilu 
vian  horse-pistols  look  like  thirty  cents." 


28  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

He  bent  to  a  battered  and  worm-eaten  sea  chest,  lifted 
the  lid  that  was  monogrammed  with  an  "  M,"  and  again 
addressed  the  portrait : 

"  Well,  old  pirate  Welshman  of  an  ancestor,  all  you've 
left  me  is  the  old  duds  and  a  face  that  looks  like  yours. 
And"  I  guess,  if  I  was  really  fired  up,  I  could  play  your 
Port-au-Prince  stunt  about  as  well  as  you  played  it  your 
self." 

A  moment  later,  beginning  to  dress  himself  in  the  age- 
worn  and  moth-eaten  garments  of  the  chest,  he  added : 
"  Well,  here's  the  old  duds  on  my  back.  Come,  Mister 
Ancestor,  down  out  of  your  frame,  and  dare  to  tell  me 
a  point  of  looks  in  which  we  differ." 

Clad  in  Sir  Henry  Morgan's  ancient  habiliments,  a 
cutlass  strapped  on  around  the  middle  and  two  flint-lock 
pistols  of  huge  and  ponderous  design  thrust  into  his  waist- 
scarf,  the  resemblance  between  the  living  man  and  the 
pictured  semblance  of  the  old  buccaneer  who  had  been 
long  since  resolved  to  dust,  was  striking. 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew  .  .  ." 

As  the  young  man,  picking  the  strings  of  a  guitar, 
began  to  sing  the  old  buccaneer  rouse,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  picture  of  his  forebear  faded  into  another  picture 
and  that  he  saw  : 

The  old  forebear  himself,  back  to  a  mainmast,  cutlass 
out  and  flashing,  facing  a  semi-circle  of  fantastically 
clad  sailor  cutthroats,  while  behind  him,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  mast,  another  similarly  garbed  and  accoutered 
man,  with  cutlass  flashing,  faced  the  other  semi-circle  of 
cutthroats  that  completed  the  ring  about  the  mast. 

The  vivid  vision  of  his  fancy  was  broken  by  the  break 
ing  of  a  guitar-string  which  he  had  thrummed  too  pas- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  29 

sionately.  And  in  the  sharp  pause  of  silence,  it  seemed 
that  a  fresh  vision  of  old  Sir  Henry  came  to  him,  down 
out  of  the  frame  and  beside  him,  real  in  all  seeming, 
plucking  at  his  sleeve  to  lead  him  out  of  the  hut  and 
whispering  a  ghostly  repetition  of: 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew." 

The  young  man  obeyed  his  shadowy  guide,  or  some 
prompting  of  his  own  of  profound  intuition,  and  went 
out  the  door  and  down  to  the  beach,  where,  gazing  across 
the  narrow  channel,  on  the  beach  of  the  Bull,  he  saw 
his  late  antagonist,  backed  up  against  the  great  bowlder 
of  coral  rock,  standing  off  an  attack  of  sack-clouted, 
machete-wielding  Indians  with  wide  sweeping  strokes  of 
a  driftwood  timber. 

And  Francis,  in  extremity,  swaying  dizzily  from  the 
blow  of  a  rock  on  his  head,  saw  the  apparition,  that 
almost  convinced  him  he  was  already  dead  and  in  the 
realm  of  the  shades,  of  Sir  Henry  Morgan  himself,  cut 
lass  in  hand,  rushing  up  the  beach  to  his  rescue.  Fur 
ther,  the  apparition,  brandishing  the  cutlass  and  laying 
out  Indians  right  and  left,  was  bellowing: 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew." 

As  Francis'  knees  gave  under  him  and  he  slowly  crum 
pled  and  sank  down,  he  saw  the  Indians  scatter  and  flee 
before  the  onslaught  of  the  weird  pirate  figure  and  heard 
their  cries  of : 

"  Heaven  help  us !  "  "  The  Virgin  protect  us  !"  "  It's 
the  ghost  of  old  Morgan!  " 

Francis  next  opened  his  eyes  inside  the  grass  hut  in 


30  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  midmost  center  of  the  Calf.  First,  in  the  glimmering 
of  sight  of  returning  consciousness,  he  beheld  the  pictured 
lineaments  of  Sir  Henry  Morgan  staring  down  at  him 
from  the  wall.  Next,  it  was  a  younger  edition  of  the 
same,  in  three  dimensions  of  living,  moving  flesh,  who 
thrust  a  mug  of  brandy  to  his  lips  and  bade  him  drink. 
Francis  was  on  his  feet  ere  he  touched  lips  to  the  mug; 
and  both  he  and  the  stranger  man,  moved  by  a  common 
impulse,  looked  squarely  into  each  other's  eyes,  glanced 
at  the  picture  on  the  wall  and  touched  mugs  in  a  salute 
to  the  picture  and  to  each  other  ere  they  drank. 

'  You  told  me  you  were  a  Morgan,"  the  stranger  said. 
"  I  am  a  Morgan.  That  man  on  the  wall  fathered  my 
breed.  Your  breed?" 

'  The  old  buccaneer's,"  Francis  returned.  "  My  first 
name  is  Francis.  And  yours?" 

"  Henry  —  straight  from  the  original.  We  must  be 
remote  cousins  or  something  or  other.  I'm  after  the 
foxy  old  niggardly  old  Welshman's  loot." 

"  So'm  I,"  said  Francis,  extending  his  hand.  "  But 
to  hell  with  sharing." 

'  The  old  blood  talks  in  you,"  Henry  smiled  approba 
tion.  "  For  him  to  have  who  finds.  I've  turned  most  of 
this  island  upside  down  in  the  last  six  months,  and  all 
I've  found  are  these  old  duds.  I'm  with  you  to  beat 
you  if  I  can,  but  to  put  my  back  against  the  mainmast 
with  you  any  time  the  needed  call  goes  out." 

"  That  song's  a  wonder,"  Francis  urged.  "  I  want 
to  learn  it.  Lift  the  stave  again." 

And  together,  clanking  their  mugs,  they  sang: 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew  .  .  ." 


CHAPTER  III 

BUT  a  splitting  headache  put  a  stop  to  Francis'  singing 
and  made  him  glad  to  be  swung  in  a  cool  hammock  by 
Henry,  who  rowed  off  to  the  Angelique  with  orders  from 
his  visitor  to  the  skipper  to  stay  at  anchor  but  not  to  per 
mit  any  of  his  sailors  to  land  on  the  Calf.  Not  until 
late  in  the  morning  of  the  following  day,  after  hours 
of  heavy  sleep,  did  Francis  get  on  his  feet  and  announce 
that  his  head  was  clear  again. 

"  I  know  what  it  is  —  got  bucked  off  a  horse  once," 
his  strange  relative  sympathized,  as  he  poured  him  a 
huge  cup  of  fragrant  black  coffee.  "  Drink  that  down. 
It  will  make  a  new  man  of  you.  Can't  offer  yon  much 
for  breakfast  except  bacon,  sea  biscuit,  and  some  scram 
bled  turtle  eggs.  They're  fresh.  I  guarantee  that,  for 
I  dug  them  out  this  morning  while  you  slept." 

"That  coffee  is  a  meal  in  itself,"  Francis  praised, 
meanwhile  studying  his  kinsman  and  ever  and  anon 
glancing  at  the  portrait  of  their  relative. 

"  You're  just  like  him,  and  in  more  than  mere  looks," 
Henry  laughed,  catching  him  in  his  scrutiny.  "  When 
you  refused  to  share  yesterday,  it  was  old  Sir  Henry  to 
the  life.  He  had  a  deep-seated  antipathy  against  shar 
ing,  even  with  his  own  crews.  It's  what  caused  most  of 
his  troubles.  And  he's  certainly  never  shared  a  penny 
of  his  treasure  with  any  of  his  descendants.  Now,  I'm 
different.  Not  only  will  I  share  the  Calf  with  you;  but 
I'll  present  you  with  my  half  as  well,  lock,  stock,  and 
barrel,  this  grass  hut,  all  these  nice  furnishings,  tene 
ments,  hereditaments,  and  everything,  and  what's  left  of 
the  turtle  eggs.  When  do  you  want  to  move  in?  " 

"  You  mean  ...    ?  "  Francis  asked. 

31 


32  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  Just  that.  There's  nothing  here.  I've  just  about 
dug  the  island  upside  down  and  all  I  found  was  the  chest 
there  full  of  old  clothes." 

"  It  must  have  encouraged  you." 

"  Mightily.  I  thought  I  had  a  hammerlock  on  it.  At 
any  rate,  it  showed  I'm  on  the  right  track/' 

"What's  the  matter  with  trying  the  Bull?"  Francis 
queried. 

*  That's  my  idea  right  now,"  was  the  answer,  "  though 
I've  got  another  clew  for  over  on  the  mainland.  Those 
old-timers  had  a  way  of  noting  down  the  latitude  and 
longitude  whole  degrees  out  of  the  way." 

'  Ten  North  and  Ninety  East  on  the  chart  might  mean 
Twelve  North  and  Ninety-two  East,"  Francis  concurred. 
'  Then  again  it  might  mean  Eight  North  and  Eighty- 
eight  East.  They  carried  the  correction  in  their  heads, 
and  if  they  died  unexpectedly,  which  was  their  custom, 
it  seems,  the  secret  died  with  them." 

"  I've  half  a  notion  to  go  over  to  the  Bull  and  chase 
those  turtle-catchers  back  to  the  mainland,"  Henry 
went  on.  "  And  then  again  I'd  almost  like  to  tackle  the 
mainland  clew  first.  I  suppose  you've  got  a  stock  of 
clews,  too?  " 

"  Sure  thing,"  Francis  nodded.  "  But  say,  I'd  like  to 
take  back  what  I  said  about  not  sharing." 

"  Say  the  word,"  the  other  encouraged. 

"  Then  I  do  say  it." 

Their  hands  extended  and  gripped  in  ratification. 

"  Morgan  and  Morgan  strictly  limited,"  chortled 
Francis. 

"  Assets,  the  whole  Caribbean  Sea,  the  Spanish  Main, 
most  of  Central  America,  one  chest  full  of  perfectly  no 
good  old  clothes,  and  a  lot  of  holes  in  the  ground,"  Henry 
joined  in  the  other's  humor.  "  Liabilities,  snake-bite, 
thieving  Indians,  malaria,  yellow  fever  — 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  33 

"  And  pretty  girls  with  a  habit  of  kissing  total  strang 
ers  one  moment,  and  of  sticking  up  said  total  strangers 
with  shiny  silver  revolvers  the  next  moment,"  Francis 
cut  in.  "  Let  me  tell  you  about  it.  Day  before  yesterday, 
I  rowed  ashore  over  on  the  mainland.  The  moment  I 
landed,  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  world  pounced  out  upon 
me  and  dragged  me  away  into  the  jungle.  Thought  she 
was  going  to  eat  me  or  marry  me.  I  didn't  know  which. 
And  before  I  could  find  out,  what's  the  pretty  damsel  do 
but  pass  uncomplimentary  remarks  on  my  mustache  and 
chase  me  back  to  the  boat  with  a  revolver.  Told  me  to 
beat  it  and  never  come  back,  or  words  to  that  effect." 

"  Whereabouts  on  the  mainland  was  this  ? "  Henry 
demanded,  with  a  tenseness  which  Francis,  chuckling  his 
reminiscence  of  the  misadventure,  did  not  notice. 

"  Down  toward  the  other  end  of  Chiriqui  Lagoon,"  he 
replied.  "  It  was  the  stamping  ground  of  the  Solano 
family,  I  learned ;  and  they  are  a  red  peppery  family,  as 
I  found  out.  But  I  haven't  told  you  all.  Listen. 
First  she  dragged  me  into  the  vegetation  and  insulted  my 
mustache ;  next  she  chased  me  to  the  boat  with  a  drawn 
revolver;  and  then  she  wanted  to  know  why  I  didn't  kiss 
her.  Can  you  beat  that  ?  " 

"  And  did  you?  "  Henry  demanded,  his  hand  uncon 
sciously  clenching  by  his  side. 

"What  could  a  poor  stranger  in  a  strange  land  do? 
It  was  some  armful  of  pretty  girl  - 

The  next  fraction  of  a  second  Francis  had  sprung  to 
his  feet  and  blocked  before  his  jaw  a  crushing  blow  of 
Henry's  fist. 

"I  —  I  beg  your  pardon,"  Henry  mumbled,  and 
slumped  down  on  the  ancient  sea  chest.  "  I'm  a  fool,  I 
know,  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  can  stand  for- 

"  There  you  go  again,"  Francis  interrupted  resent 
fully.  "  As  crazy  as  everybody  else  in  this  crazy  coun- 


34  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

try.  One  moment  you  bandage  up  my  cracked  head,  and 
the  next  moment  you  want  to  knock  that  same  head  clean 
off  of  me.  As  bad  as  the  girl  taking  turns  at  kissing  me 
and  shoving  a  gun  into  my  midrif." 

"  That's  right,  fire  away,  I  deserve  it,"  Henry  admit 
ted  ruefully,  but  involuntarily  began  to  fire  up  as  he  con 
tinued  with :  "  Confound  you,  that  was  Leoncia." 

"What  if  it  was  Leoncia?  Or  Mercedes?  Or  Do 
lores?  Gan't  a  fellow  kiss  a  pretty  girl  at  a  revolver's 
point  without  having  his  head  knocked  off  by  the  next 
ruffian  he  meets  in  dirty  canvas  pants  on  a  notorious 
sand-heap  of  an  island?" 

"  When  the  pretty  girl  is  engaged  to  marry  the  ruffian 
in  the  dirty  canvas  pants  —  " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  —  "  the  other  broke  in 
excitedly. 

"  It  isn't  particularly  amusing  to  said  ruffian  to  be 
told  that  his  sweetheart  has  been  kissing  a  ruffian  she 
never  saw  before  from  off  a  disreputable  Jamaica  nigger  s 
schooner,"  Henry  completed  his  sentence. 

"  And  she  took  me  for  you,"  Francis  mused,  glimpsing 
the  situation.  "  I  don't  blame  you  for  losing  your  tem 
per,  though  you  must  admit  it's  a  nasty  one.  Wanted  to 
cut  off  my  ears  yesterday,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Yours  is  just  as  nasty,  Francis,  my  boy.  The  way 
you  insisted  that  I  cut  them  off  when  I  had  you  down  — 
ha !  ha !  " 

Both  young  men  laughed  in  hearty  amity. 

"  It's  the  old  Morgan  temper,"  Henry  said.  "  He  was 
by  all  the  accounts  a  peppery  old  cuss." 

"  No  more  peppery  than  those  Solanos  you're  marry 
ing  into.  Why,  most  of  the  family  came  down  on  the 
beach  and  peppered  me  with  rifles  on  my  departing  way. 
And  your  Leoncia  pulled  her  little  popgun  on  a  long- 
bearded  old  fellow  who  might  have  been  her  father  and 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  35 

gave  him  to  understand  she'd  shoot  him  full  of  holes  if 
he  didn't  stop  plugging  away  at  me." 

"  It  was  her  father,  I'll  wager,  old  Enrico  himself," 
Henry  exclaimed.  "  And  the  other  chaps  were  her 
brothers." 

"Lovely  lizards!"  ejaculated  Francis.  "  Say,  don't 
you  think  life  is  liable  to  become  a  trifle  monotonous  when 
you're  married  into  such  a  peaceful,  dove-like  family  as 
that?  "  He  broke  off,  struck  by  a  new  idea.  "  By  the 
way,  Henry,  since  they  all  thought  it  was  you,  and  not 
I,  why  in  thunderatipn  did  they  want  to  kill  you?  Some 
more  of  your  crusty  Morgan  temper  that  peeved  your 
prospective  wife's  relatives?" 

Henry  looked  at  him  a  moment,  as  if  debating  with 
himself,  and  then  answered. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you.  It  is  a  nasty  mess,  and  I 
suppose  my  temper  was  to  blame.  I  quarreled  with  her 
uncle.  He  was  her  father's  youngest  brother  - 

"  Was?"  interrupted  Francis  with  a  significant  stress 
on  the  past  tense. 

"  Was,  I  said,"  Henry  nodded.  "  He  isn't  now.  His 
name  was  Alfaro  Solano,  and  he  had  some  temper  him 
self.  They  claim  to  be  descended  from  the  Spanish 
conquistador es,  and  they  are  prouder  than  hornets.  He'd 
made  money  in  logwood,  and  he  had  just  got  a  big  hen- 
equen  plantation  started  farther  down  the  coast.  And 
then  we  quarreled.  It  was  in  the  little  town  over  there  - 
San  Antonio.  It  may  have  been  a  misunderstanding, 
though  I  still  maintain  he  was  wrong.  He  always  was 
looking  for  trouble  with  me  —  didn't  want  me  to  marry 
Leoncia,  you  see. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  hot  time.  It  started  in  a  pulqueria 
where  Alfaro  had  been  drinking  more  mescal  than  was 
good  for  him.  He  insulted  me  all  right.  They  had  to 
hold  us  apart  and  take  our  guns  away,  and  we  separated 


36  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

swearing  death  and  destruction.     That  was  the  trouble 

-  our  quarrel  and  our  threats  were  heard  by  a  score  of 
witnesses.       «£i 

'  Within  two  hours  the  Comisario  himself  and  two 
gendarmes  found  me  bending  over  Alfaro's  body  in  a 
back  street  in  the  town.  He'd  been  knifed  in  the  back, 
and  I'd  stumbled  over  him  on  the  way  to  the  beach. 
Explain?  No  such  thing.  There  were  the  quarrel  and 
the  threats  of  vengeance,  and  there  I  was,  not  two  hours 
afterward,  caught  dead  to  right  with  his  warm  corpse. 
I  haven't  been  back  in  San  Antonio  since,  and  I  didn't 
waste  any  time  in  getting  away.  Alfaro  was  very  popu 
lar, —  you  know  the  dashing  type  that  catches  the  rabble's 
fancy.  Why,  they  couldn't  have  been  persuaded  to  give 
me  even  the  semblance  of  a  trial.  Wanted  my  blood 
there  and  then,  and  I  departed  very  pronto. 

"  Next,  up  at  Bocas  del  Toro,  a  messenger  from  Leon- 
cia  delivered  back  the  engagement  ring.  And  there  you 
are.  I  developed  a  real  big  disgust,  and,  since  I  didn't 
dare  go  back  with  all  the  Solanos  and  the  rest  of  the  pop 
ulation  thirsting  for  my  life,  I  came  over  here  to  play 
hermit  for  a  while  and  dig  for  Morgan's  treasure.  .  .  . 
Just  the  same,  I  wonder  who  did  stick  that  knife  into 
Alfaro.  If  ever  I  find  him,  then  I  clear  myself  with 
Leoncia  and  the  rest  of  the  Solanos  and  there  isn't  a 
doubt  in  the  world  that  there'll  be  a  wedding.  And  now 
that  it's  all  over  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  Alfaro 
was  a  good  scout,  even  if  his  temper  did  go  off  at  half- 
cock." 

"  Clear  as  print,"  Francis  murmured.  "  No  wonder 
her  father  and  brothers  wanted  to  perforate  me. 

-  Why,  the  more  I  look  at  you,  the  more  I  see  we're  as 
like  as  two  peas,  except  for  my  mustache  - 

"  And  for  this  ..>•,*"  Henry  rolled  up  his  sleeve,  and 
on  the  left  forearm  showed  a  long,  thin  white  scar. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  37 

"  Got  that  when  I  was  a  boy.  Fell  off  a  windmill  and 
through  the  glass  roof  of  a  hothouse." 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  Francis  said,  his  f  ce  beginning 
to  light  with  the  project  forming  in  his  rrh.id.  "  Some 
body's  got  to  straighten  you  out  of  this  mess,  and  the 
chap's  name  is  Francis,  partner  in  the  firm  of  Morgan 
and  Morgan.  You  stick  around  here,  or  go  over  and 
begin  prospecting  on  the  Bull,  while  I  go  back  and  explain 
things  to  Leoncia  and  her  people  - 

"If  only  they  don't  shoot  you  first  before  you  can 
explain  you  are  not  I,"  Henry  muttered  bitterly. 
"  That's  the  trouble  with  those  Solanos.  They  shoot 
first  and  talk  afterward.  They  won't  listen  to  reason 
unless  it's  post  mortem." 

"  Guess  I'll  take  a  chance,  old  man,"  Francis  assured 
the  other,  himself  all  fire  with  the  plan  of  clearing  up  the 
distressing  situation  between  Henry  and  the  girl. 

But  the  thought  of  her  perplexed  him.  He  experi 
enced  more  than  a  twinge  of  regret  that  the  lovely 
creature  belonged  of  right  to  the  man  who  looked  so  much 
like  him,  and  he  saw  again  the  vision  of  her  on  the  beach, 
when,  with  conflicting  emotions,  she  had  alternately  loved 
him  and  yearned  toward  him  and  blazed  her  scorn  and 
contempt  on  him.  He  sighed  involuntarily. 

"  What's,  that  for?  "  Henry  demanded  quizzically. 

"  Leoncia  is  an  exceedingly  pretty  girl,"  Francis  an 
swered  with  transparent  frankness.  "  Just  the  same, 
she's  yours,  and  I'm  going  to  make  it  my  business  to  see 
that  you  get  her.  Where's  that  ring  she  returned?  If 
I  don't  put  it  on  her  finger  for  you  and  be  back  here  in 
a  week  with  the  good  news,  you  can  cut  off  my  mustache 
along  with  my  ears." 

An  hour  later,  Captain  Trefethen  having  sent  a  boat 
to  the  beach  from  the  Angelique  in  response  to  signal, 
the  two  young  men  were  saying  good-by. 


3  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

."Just  two  things  more,  Francis.  First,  and  I  forgot 
to  tell  you,  Leoncia  is  not  a  Solano  at  all,  though  she 
thinks  she  is.  Alfaro  told  me  himself.  She  is  an 
adopted  child,  and  old  Enrico  fairly  worships  her,  though 
neither  his  blood  nor  his  race  runs  in  her  veins.  Alfaro 
never  told  me  the  ins  and  outs  of  it,  though  he  did  say 
she  wasn't  Spanish  at  all.  I  don't  even  know  whether 
she's  English  or  American.  She  talks  good  enough  Eng 
lish,  though  she  got  that  at  convent.  You  see,  she  was 
adopted  when  she  was  a  wee  thing,  and  she's  never  known 
anything  else  than  that  Enrico  is  her  father." 

"  And  no  wonder  she  scorned  and  hated  me  for  you," 
Francis  laughed,  "  believing,  as  she  did,  as  she  still  does, 
that  you  knifed  her  full  blood-uncle  in  the  back." 

Henry  nodded,  and  went  on. 

"  The  other  thing  is  fairly  important.  And  that's  the 
law.  Or  the  absence  of  it,  rather.  They  make  it  what 
ever  they  want  it,  down  in  this  out-of-the-way  hole.  It's 
a  long  way  to  Panama,  and  the  gobernador  of  this  state, 
or  district,  or  whatever  they  call  it,  is  a  sleepy  old 
Silenus.  The  Jefe  Politico  at  San  Antonio  is  the  man 
to  keep  an  eye  on.  He's  the  little  czar  of  that  neck  of 
the  woods,  and  he's  some  crooked  hombre,  take  it  from 
yours  truly.  Graft  is  too  weak  a  word  to  apply  to  some 
of  his  deals,  and  he's  as  cruel  and  blood-thirsty  as  a 
weasel.  And  his  one  crowning  delight  is  an  execution. 
He  dotes  on  a  hanging.  Keep  your  weather  eye  on  him, 
whatever  you  do.  ...  And,  well,  so  long.  And  half 
of  whatever  I  find  on  the  Bull  is  yours  .  .  .  and  see 
you  get  that  ring  back  on  Leoncia's  finger." 

Two  days  later,  after  the  half-breed  skipper  had  recon- 
noitered  ashore  and  brought  back  the  news  that  all  the 
men  of  Leoncia's  family  were  away,  Francis  had  him 
self  landed  on  the  beach  where  he  had  first  met  her. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  39 

No  maidens  with  silver  revolvers  nor  men  with  rifles  were 
manifest.  All  was  placid,  and  the  only  person  on  the 
beach  was  a  ragged  little  Indian  boy  who  at  sight  of  a 
coin  readily  consented  to  carry  a  note  up  to  the  young 
seriorita  of  the  big  hacienda.  As  Francis  scrawled  on  a 
sheet  of  paper  from  his  notebook,  "  I  am  the  man  whom 
you  mistook  for  Henry  Morgan,  and  I  have  a  message 
for  you  from  him,"  he  little  dreamed  that  untoward  hap 
penings  were  about  to  occur  with  as  equal  rapidity  and 
frequence  as  on  his  first  visit. 

For  that  matter,  could  he  have  peeped  over  the  outjut 
of  the  rock  against  which  he  leaned  his  back  while  com 
posing  the  note  to  Leoncia,  he  would  have  been  startled 
by  a  vision  of  the  young  lady  herself,  emerging  like  a 
sea-goddess  fresh  from  a  swim  in  the  sea.  But  he 
wrote  calmly  on,  the  Indian  lad  even  more  absorbed  than 
himself  in  the  operation,  so  that  it  was  Leoncia,  coming 
around  the  rock  from  behind,  who  first  caught  sight  of 
him.  Stifling  an  exclamation  she  turned  and  fled  blindly 
into  the  green  screen  of  jungle. 

His  first  warning  of  her  proximity  was  immediately 
thereafter,  when  a  startled  scream  of  fear  aroused  him. 
Note  and  pencil  fell  to  the  sand  as  he  sprang  toward  the 
direction  of  the  cry  and  collided  with  a  wet  and  scantily 
dressed  young  woman  who  was  recoiling  backward  from 
whatever  had  caused  her  scream.  The  unexpectedness 
of  the  collision  was  provocative  of  a  second  startled 
scream  from  her  ere  she  could  turn  and  recognize  that  it 
was  not  a  new  attack  but  a  rescuer. 

She  darted  past  him,  her  face  colorless  from  the  fright, 
stumbled  over  the  Indian  boy,  nor  paused  until  she  was 
out  on  the  open  sand. 

"What  is  it?"  Francis  demanded.  "Are  you  hurt? 
What's  happened?  " 

She  pointed  at  her  bare  knee,  where  two  tiny  drops  of 


40  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

blood  oozed  forth  side  by  side  from  two  scarcely  percep 
tible  lacerations. 

"  It  was  a  viperine,"  she  said.  "  A  deadly  viperine. 
I  shall  be  a  dead  woman  in  five  minutes,  and  I  am  glad, 
glad,  for  then  my  heart  will  be  tormented  no  more  by 
you." 

She  leveled  an  accusing  finger  at  him,  gasped  the  begin 
ning  of  denunciation  she  could  not  utter,  and  sank  down 
in  a  faint. 

Francis  knew  about  the  snakes  of  Central  America 
merely  by  hearsay,  but  the  hearsay  was  terrible  enough. 
Men  talked  of  even  mules  and  dogs  dying  in  horrible 
agony  five  to  ten  minutes  after  being  struck  by  tiny 
reptiles  fifteen  to  twenty  inches  long.  Small  wonder  she 
had  fainted,  was  his  thought,  with  so  terribly  rapid  a 
poison  doubtlessly  beginning  to  work.  His  knowledge 
of  the  treatment  of  snake-bite  was  likewise  hearsay,  but 
flashed  through  his  mind  the  recollection  of  the  need  of 
a  tourniquet  to  shut  off  the  circulation  above  the  wound 
and  prevent  the  poison  from  reaching  the  heart. 

He  pulled  out  his  handkerchief  and  tied  it  loosely 
around  her  leg  above  the  knee,  thrust  in  a  short  piece  of 
driftwood  stick,  and  twisted  the  handkerchief  to  savage 
tightness.  Next,  and  all  by  hearsay,  working  swiftly, 
he  opened  the  small  blade  of  his  pocket-knife,  burned  it 
with  several  matches  to  make  sure  against  germs,  and 
cut  carefully  but  remorsely  into  the  two  lacerations  made 
by  the  snake's  fangs. 

He  was  in  a  fright  himself,  working  with  feverish  deft 
ness  and  apprehending  at  any  moment  that  the  pangs  of 
dissolution  would  begin  to  set  in  on  the  beautiful  form 
before  him.  From  all  he  had  heard,  the  bodies  of  snake- 
victims  began  to  swell  quickly  and  prodigiously.  Even 
as  he  finished  excoriating  the  fang-wounds,  his  mind  was 
made  up  to  his  next  two  acts.  First,  he  would  suck  out 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  41 

all  poison  he  possibly  could;  and,  next,  light  a  cigarette 
and  with  its  live  end  proceed  to  cauterize  the  flesh. 

But  while  he  was  still  making  light,  criss-cross  cuts 
with  the  point  of  his  knife-blade,  she  began  to  move 
restlessly. 

"  Lie  down,"  he  commanded,  as  she  sat  up,  and  just 
when  he  was  bending  his  lips  to  the  task. 

In  response,  he  received  a  responding  slap  alongside 
of  his  face  from  her  little  hand.  At  the  same  instant 
the  Indian  lad  danced  out  of  the  jungle,  swinging  a 
small  dead  snake  by  the  tail  and  crying  exultingly : 

"  Labarri !     Labarri !  " 

At  which  Francis  assumed  the  worst. 

"  Lie  down,  and  be  quiet ! "  he  repeated  harshly. 
"  You  haven't  a  second  to  lose." 

But  she  had  eyes  only  for  the  dead  snake.  Her  relief 
was  patent;  but  Francis  was  no  witness  to  it,  for  he 
was  bending  to  perform  the  classic  treatment  of  snake 
bite. 

"  You  dare!  "  she  threatened  him.  "  It's  only  a  baby 
labarri,  and  its  bite  is  harmless.  I  thought  it  was  a 
viperine.  They  look  alike  when  the  labarri  is  small." 

The  constriction  of  the  circulation  by  the  tourniquet 
pained  her,  and  she  glanced  down  and  discovered  his 
handkerchief  knotted  around  her  leg. 

"Oh,  what  have  you  done?" 

A  warm  blush  began  to  suffuse  her  face. 

"  But  it  was  only  a  baby  labarri,"  she  reproached  him. 

"  You  told  me  it  was  a  viperine,"  he  retorted. 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  although  the  pink  of 
flush  burned  furiously  in  her  ears.  Yet  he  could  have 
sworn,  unless  it  were  hysteria,  that  she  was  laughing; 
and  he  knew  for  the  first  time  how  really  hard  was  the 
task  he  had  undertaken  to  put  the  ring  of  another  man 
on  her  finger.  So  he  deliberately  hardened  his  heart 


42  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

against  the  beauty  and  fascination  of  her,  and  said  bit 
terly  : 

"  And  now,  I  suppose  some  of  your  gentry  will  shoot 
me  full  of  holes  because  I  don't  know  a  labarri  from  a 
viperine.  You  might  call  some  of  the  farm  hands  down 
to  do  it.  Or  maybe  you'd  like  to  take  a  shot  at  me  your 
self." 

But  she  seemed  not  to  have  heard,  for  she  had  arisen 
with  the  quick  litheness  to  be  expected  of  so  gloriously 
fashioned  a  creature,  and  was  stamping  her  foot  on  the 
sand. 

"It's  asleep  —  my  foot,"  she  explained  with  laugh 
ter  unhidden  this  time  by  her  hands. 

"  You're  acting  perfectly  disgracefully,"  he  assured 
her  wickedly,  "  when  you  consider  that  I  am  the  murderer 
of  your  uncle." 

Thus  reminded,  the  laughter  ceased  and  the  color  re 
ceded  from  her  face.  She  made  no  reply,  but  bending, 
with  fingers  that  trembled  with  anger  she  strove  to  unknot 
the  handkerchief  as  if  it  were  some  loathsome  thing. 

"  Better  let  me  help,"  he  suggested  pleasantly. 

"  You  beast ! "  she  flamed  at  him.  "  Step  aside. 
Your  shadow  falls  upon  me." 

"  Now  you  are  delicious,  charming,"  he  girded,  belying 
the  desire  that  stirred  compellingly  within  him  to  clasp 
her  in  his  arms.  "  You  quite  revive  my  last  recollection 
of  you  here  on  the  beach,  one  second  reproaching  me  for 
not  kissing  you,  the  next  second  kissing  me  —  yes,  you 
did,  too  —  and  the  third  second  threatening  to  destroy 
my  digestion  forever  with  that  nftle  tin  toy  pistol  of 
yours.  No ;  you  haven't  changed  an  iota  from  last  time. 
You're  the  same  spitfire  of  a  Leoncia.  You'd  better 
let  me  untie  that  for  you*.  Don't  you  see  the  knot  is 
jammed?  Your  little  fingers  can  never  manage  it." 

She  stamped  her  foot  in  sheer  inarticulateness  of  rage. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  43 

"  Lucky  for  me  you  don't  make  a  practice  of  taking 
your  tin  toy  pistol  in  swimming  with  you,"  he  teased 
on,  "  or  else  there'd  be  a  funeral  right  here  on  the  beach 
pretty  pronto  of  a  perfectly  nice  young  man  whose  inten 
tions  are  never  less  than  the  best." 

The  Indian  boy  returned  at  this  moment  running  with 
her  bathing  wrap,  which  she  snatched  from  him  and  put 
on  hastily.  Next,  with  the  boy's  help,  she  attacked  the 
knot  again.  When  the  handkerchief  came  off  she  flung 
it  from  her  as  if  in  truth  it  were  a  viperine. 

"  It  was  contamination,"  she  flashed,  for  his  benefit. 

But  Francis,  still  engaged  in  hardening  his  heart 
against  her,  shook  his  head  slowly  and  said : 

"  It  doesn't  save  you,  Leoncia.  I've  left  my  mark  on 
you  that  never  will  come  off." 

He  pointed  to  the  excoriations  he  had  made  on  her 
knee  and  laughed. 

"  The  mark  of  the  beast,"  she  came  back,  turning  to 
go.  "  I  warn  you  to  take  yourself  off,  Mr.  Henry 
Morgan." 

But  he  stepped  in  her  way. 

"  And  now  we'll  talk  business,  Miss  Solano,"  he  said 
in  changed  tones.  "  And  you  will  listen.  Let  your  eyes 
flash  all  they  please,  but  don't  interrupt  me."  He  stooped 
and  picked  up  the  note  he  had  been  engaged  in  writing. 
"  I  was  just  sending  that  to  you  by  the  boy  when  you 
screamed.  Take  it.  Read  it.  It  won't  bite  you.  It 
isn't  a  viperine." 

Though  she  refused  to  receive  it,  her  eyes  involun 
tarily  scanned  the  opening  line : 

I  am  the  man  whom  you  mistook  for  Henry  Morgan.  .  .  . 

She  looked  at  him  with  startled  eyes  that  could  not 
comprehend  much  but  which  were  guessing  many  vague 
things. 


44  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  On  my  honor,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  You  —  are  —  not  —  Henry  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  No,  I  am  not.     Won't  you  please  take  it  and  read  ?  " 

This  time  she  complied,  while  he  gazed  with  all  his 
eyes  upon  the  golden  pallor  of  the  sun  on  her  tropic- 
touched  blonde  face  which  colored  the  blood  beneath, 
or  which  was  touched  by  the  blood  beneath,  to  the  amaz 
ingly  beautiful  golden  pallor. 

Almost  in  a  dream  he  discovered  himself  looking  into 
her  startled,  questioning  eyes  of  velvet  brown. 

"  And  who  should  have  signed  this?  "  she  repeated. 

He  came  to  himself  and  bowed. 

"  But  the  name?  —  your  name?  " 

"  Morgan,  Francis  Morgan.  As  I  explained  there, 
Henry  and  I  are  some  sort  of  distant  relatives  —  forty- 
fifth  cousins,  or  something  like  that." 

To  his  bewilderment,  a  great  doubt  suddenly  dawned 
in  her  eyes,  and  the  old  familiar  anger  flashed. 

"  Henry,"  she  accused  him.  "  This  is  a  ruse,  a  devil's 
trick  you're  trying  to  play  on  me.  Of  course  you  are 
Henry." 

Francis   pointed  to   his  mustache. 

"  You've  grown  that  since,"   she  challenged. 

He  pulled  up  his  sleeve  and  showed  her  his  left  arm 
from  wrist  to  elbow.  But  she  only  looked  her  incom 
prehension  of  the  meaning  of  his  action. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  scar  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  nodded. 

"  Then  find  it." 

She  bent  her  head  in  swift  vain  search,  then  shook  it 
slowly  as  she  faltered : 

"I  —  I  ask  your  forgiveness.  I  was  terribly  mis 
taken,  and  when  I  think  of  the  way  I  ...  I've  treated 
you  — " 

"  That  kiss  was  delightful,"  he  naughtily  disclaimed. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  45 

She  recollected  more  immediate  passages,  glanced 
down  at  her  knee  and  stifled  what  he  adjudged  was  a 
most  adorable  giggle. 

'  You  say  you  have  a  message  from  Henry,"  she 
changed  the  subject  abruptly.  "  And  that  he  is  innocent 
—  ?  This  is  true?  Oh,  I  do  want  to  believe  you!  " 

"  I  am  morally  certain  that  Henry  no  more  killed  your 
uncle  than  did  I  - 

"  Then  say  no  more,  at  least  not  now,"  she  interrupted 
joyfully.  "  First  of  all  I  must  make  amends  to  you, 
though  you  must  confess  that  some  of  the  things  you 
have  done  and  said  were  abominable.  You  had  no  right 
to  kiss  me.". 

"If  you  will  remember,"  he  contended,  "  I  did  it  at 
the  pistol  point.  How  was  I  to  know  but  what  I  would 
get  shot  if  I  didn't?" 

"  Oh,  hush,  hush,"  she  begged.  "  You  must  go  with 
me  now  to  the  house.  And  you  can  tell  me  about  Henry 
on  the  way." 

Her  eyes  chanced  upon  the  handkerchief  she  had  flung 
so  contemptuously  aside.  She  ran  to  it  and  picked  it  up. 

"  Poor,  ill-treated  kerchief,"  she  crooned  to  it.  "  To 
you  also  must  I  make  amends.  I  shall  myself  launder 
you,  and  .  .  ."  Her  eyes  lifted  to  Francis  as  she  ad 
dressed  him.  "  And  return  it  to  you,  sir,  fresh  and 
sweet  and  all  wrapped  around  my  heart  of  grati 
tude — " 

"  And  the  mark  of  the  beast?  "  he  queried. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,'1  she  confessed  penitently. 

"  And  may  I  be  permitted  to  rest  my  shadow  upon 
you?" 

"Do!  Do!"  she  cried  gayly,  "There!  I  am  in 
your  shadow  now.  And  we  must  start." 

Francis  tossed  a  peso  to  the  grinning  Indian  boy,  and, 
in  high  elation,  turned  and  followed  her  into  the  tropic 


46  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

growth  on  the  path  that  led  up  to  the  white  hacienda. 

Seated  on  the  broad  piazza  of  the  Solano  Hacienda, 
Alvarez  Torres  saw  through  the  tropic  shrubs  the  couple 
approaching  along  the  winding  drive-way.  And  he  saw 
what  made  him  grit  his  teeth  and  draw  very  erroneous 
conclusions.  He  muttered  imprecations  to  himself  and 
forgot  his  cigarette. 

What  he  saw  was  Leoncia  and  Francis  in  such  deep  and 
excited  talk  as  to  be  oblivious  of  everything  else.  He 
saw  Francis  grow  so  urgent  of  speech  and  gesture  as  to 
cause  Leoncia  to  stop  abruptly  and  listen  further  to  his 
pleading.  Next  —  and  Torres  could  scarcely  believe  the 
evidence  of  his  eyes  —  he  saw  Francis  produce  a  ring,  and 
Leoncia,  with  averted  face,  extend  her  left  hand  and 
receive  the  ring  upon  her  third  finger.  Engagement 
finger  it  was,  and  Torres  could  have  sworn  to  it. 

What  had  really  occurred  was  the  placing  of  Henry's 
engagement  ring  back  on  Leoncia's  hand.  And  Leoncia, 
she  knew  not  why,  had  been  vaguely  averse  to  receiv 
ing  it. 

Torres  tossed  the  dead  cigarette  away,  twisted  his 
mustache  fiercely,  as  if  to  relieve  his  own  excitement,  and 
advanced  to  meet  them  across  the  piazza.  He  did  not 
return  the  girl's  greeting  at  the  first.  Instead,  with  the 
wrathful  face  of  the  Latin,  he  burst  out  at  Francis: 

"  One  does  not  expect  shame  in  a  murderer,  but  at 
least  one  does  expect  simple  decency." 

Francis  smiled  whimsically. 

"  There  it  goes  again,"  he  said.  "  Another  lunatic  in 
this  lunatic  land.  The  last  time  Leoncia,  that  I  saw  this 
gentleman  was  in  New  York.  He  was  really  anxious  to 
do  business  with  me.  Now  I  meet  him  here  and  the  first 
thing  he  tells  me  is  that  I  am  an  indecent,  shameless 
murderer." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  47 

"  Sefior  Torres,  you  must  apologize,"  she  declared  an 
grily.  "  The  house  of  Solano  is  not  accustomed  to  hav 
ing  its  guests  insulted." 

"  The  house  of  Solano,  I  then  understand,  is  accus 
tomed  to  having  its  men  murdered  by  transient  adven 
turers,"  he  retorted.  "  No  sacrifice  is  too  great  when 
it  is  in  the  name  of  hospitality/' 

"  Get  off  your  foot,  Serior  Torres,"  Francis  advised 
him  pleasantly.  '  You  are  standing  on  it.  I  know  what 
your  mistake  is.  You  think  I  am  Henry  Morgan.  I  am 
Francis  Morgan,  and  you  and  I,  not  long  ago,  transacted 
business  together  in  Regan's  office  in  New  York. 
There's  my  hand.  Your  shaking  of  it  will  be  sufficient 
apology  under  the  circumstances." 

Torres,  overwhelmed  for  the  moment  by  his  mistake, 
took  the  extended  hand  and  uttered  apologies  both  to 
Francis  and  Leoncia. 

"  And  now,"-  she  beamed  through  laughter,  clapping 
her  hands  to  call  a  house-servant,  "  I  must  locate  Mr. 
Morgan  and  go  and  get  some  clothes  on.  And  after  that, 
Serior  Torres,  if  you  will  pardon  us,  we  will  tell  you 
about  Henry." 

While  she  departed,  and  while  Francis  followed  away 
to  his  room  on  the  heels  of  a  young  and  pretty  mestizo, 
woman,  Torres,  his  brain  resuming  its  functions,  found 
he  was  more  amazed  and  angry  than  ever.  This,  then, 
was  a  newcomer  and  stranger  to  Leoncia  whom  he  had 
seen  putting  a  ring  on  her  engagement  finger.  He 
thought  quickly  and  passionately  for  a  moment.  Leon 
cia,  whom  to  himself  he  always  named  the  queen  of  his 
dreams,  had,  on  an  instant's  notice,  engaged  herself  to  a 
strange  Gringo  from  New  York.  It  was  unbelievable, 
monstrous. 

He  clapped  his  hands,  summoned  his  hired  carriage 
from  San  Antonio,  and  was  speeding  down  the  drive 


4  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

when  Francis  strolled  forth  to  have  a  talk  with  him 
about  further  details  of  the  hiding  place  of  old  Mor 
gan's  treasure. 

After  lunch,  when  a  land-breeze  sprang  up,  which 
meant  fair  wind  and  a  quick  run  across  Chiriqui  Lagoon 
and  along  the  length  of  it  to  the  Bull  and  the  Calf,  Fran 
cis,  eager  to  bring  to  Henry  the  good  word  that  his  ring 
adorned  Leoncia's  finger,  resolutely  declined  her  proffered 
hospitality  to  remain  for  the  night  and  meet  Enrico 
Solano  and  his  tall  sons.  Francis  had  a  further  reason 
for  hasty  departure.  He  could  not  endure  the  presence 
of  Leoncia  —  and  this  in  no  sense  uncomplimentary  to 
her.  She  charmed  him,  drew  him,  to  such  extent  that 
he  dared  not  endure  her  charm  and  draw  if  he  were  to 
remain  man- faithful  to  the  man  in  the  canvas  pants  even 
then  digging  holes  in  the  sands  of  the  Bull. 

So  Francis  departed,  a  letter  to  Henry  from  Leoncia 
in  his  pocket.  The  last  moment,  ere  he  departed,  was 
abrupt.  With  a  sigh  so  quickly  suppressed  that  Leon 
cia  wondered  whether  or*  not  she  had  imagined  it, 
he  tore  himself  away.  She  gazed  after  his  retreating 
form  down  the  driveway  until  it  was  out  of  sight,  then 
stared  at  the  ring  on  her  finger  with  a  vaguely  troubled 
expression. 

From  the  beach,  Francis  signaled  the  Ang  clique,  rid 
ing  at  anchor,  to  send  a  boat  ashore  for  him.  But  before 
it  had  been  swung  into  the  water,  half  a  dozen  horsemen, 
revolver-belted,  rifles  across  their  pommels,  rode  down 
the  beach  upon  him  at  a  gallop.  Two  men  led.  The  fol 
lowing  four  were  hang-dog  half-castes.  Of  the  two 
leaders  Francis  recognized  Torres.  Every  rifle  came  to 
rest  on  Francis,  and  he  could  not  but  obey  the  order 
snarled  at  him  by  the  unknown  leader  to  throw  up  his 
hands.  And  Francis  opined  aloud: 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  49 

"  To  think  of  it !  Once,  only  the  other  day  —  or  was 
it  a  million  years  ago  ?  -  -  I  thought  auction  bridge,  at  a 
dollar  a  point,  was  some  excitement.  Now,  sirs,  you 
on  your  horses,  with  your  weapons  threatening  the  violent 
introduction  of  foreign  substances  into  my  poor  body, 
tell  me  what  is  doing  now.  Don't  I  ever  get  off  this 
beach  without  gunpowder  complications?  Is  it  my  ears, 
or  merely  my  mustache,  you  want?  " 

"  We  want  you,"  answered  the  stranger  leader,  whose 
mustache  bristled  as  magnetically  as  his  crooked  black 
eyes. 

"  And  in  the  name  of  original  sin  and  of  all  lovely 
lizards,  who  might  you  be?  " 

"  He  he  is  the  honorable  Senor  Mariano  Vercara 
e  Hijos,  Jefe  Politico  of  San  Antonio,"  Torres  re 
plied. 

"  Good  night,"  Francis  laughed,  remembering  the  man's 
description  as  given  to  him  by  Henry.  "  I  suppose  you 
think  I've  broken  some  harbor  rule  or  sanitary  regulation 
by  anchoring  here.  But  you  must  settle  such  things  with 
my  captain,  Captain  Trefethen,  a  very  estimable  gen 
tleman.  I  am  only  the  charterer  of  the  schooner  —  just 
a  passenger.  You  will  find  Captain  Trefethen  right  up 
in  maritime  law  and  custom." 

"  You  are  wanted  for  the  murder  of  Alfaro  Solano," 
was  Torres'  answer.  ;'  You  didn't  fool  me,  Henry  Mor 
gan,  with  your  talk  up  at  the  hacienda  that  you  were 
some  one  else.  I  know  that  some  one  else.  His  name  is 
Francis  Morgan,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  add  that  he  is 
not  a  murderer,  but  a  gentleman." 

'  Ye  gods  and  little  fishes ! "  Francis  exclaimed. 
"  And  yet  you  shook  hands  with  me,  Senor  Torres." 

"  I  was  fooled,"  Torres  admitted  sadly.  "  But  only 
for  a  moment.  Will  you  come  peaceably?" 

"As  if  -  - "  Francis  shrugged  his  shoulders  eloquently 


50  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

at  the  six  rifles.  "  I  suppose  you'll  give  me  a  pronto 
trial  and  hang  me  at  daybreak." 

"  Justice  is  swift  in  Panama,"  the  Jefe  Politico  re 
plied,  his  English  queerly  accented  but  understandable. 
"  But  not  so  quick  as  that.  We  will  not  hang  you  at 
daybreak.  Ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  is  more  com 
fortable  all  around,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,"  Francis  retorted.  "  Make  it 
eleven,  or  even  twelve  noon  —  I  won't  mind." 

"  You  will  kindly  come  with  us,  senor,"  Mariano  Ver- 
cara  e  Hijos  said,  the  suavity  of  his  diction  not  masking 
the  iron  of  its  intention.  — Juan!  Ignacio!"  he  or 
dered  in  Spanish.  "  Dismount !  Take  his  weapons. 
No,  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  tie  his  hands.  Put  him  on 
the  horse  behind  Gregorio." 

Francis,  in  a  venerably  whitewashed  adobe  cell  with 
walls  five  feet  thick,  its  earth  floor  carpeted  with  the  forms 
of  half  a  dozen  sleeping  peon  prisoners,  listened  to  a  dim 
hammering  not  very  distant,  remembered  the  trial  from 
which  he  had  just  emerged,  and  whistled  long  and  low. 
The  hour  was  half -past  eight  in  the  evening.  The  trial 
had  begun  at  eight.  The  hammering  was  the  hammer 
ing  together  of  the  scaffold  beams  from  which  place  of 
eminence  he  was  scheduled  at  ten  next  morning  to  swing 
off  into  space  supported  from  the  ground  by  a  rope 
around  his  neck.  The  trial  had  lasted  half  an  hour  by 
his  watch.  Twenty  minutes  would  have  covered  it  had 
Leoncia  not  burst  in  and  prolonged  it  by  the  ten  minutes 
courteously  accorded  her  as  the  great  lady  of  the  Solano 
family. 

"The  Jefe  was  right,"  Francis  acknowledged  to  him 
self  in  a  mutter  of  soliloquy.  "  Panama  justice  does 
move  swiftly." 

The  very  possession  of  the  letter  given  him  by  Leoncia 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  51 

and  addressed  to  Henry  Morgan  had  damned  him.  The 
rest  had  been  easy.  Half  a  dozen  witnesses  had  testified 
to  the  murder  and  identified  him  as  the  murderer.  The 
Jefe  Politico  himself  had  so  testified.  The  one  cheerful 
note  had  been  the  eruption  on  the  scene  of  Leoncia, 
chaperoned  by  a  palsied  old  aunt  of  the  Solano  family. 
That  had  been  sweet  —  the  fight  the  beautiful  girl  had 
put  up  for  his  life,  despite  the  fact  that  it  was  fore 
doomed  to  futility. 

When  she  had  made  Francis  roll  up  the  sleeve  and 
expose  his  left  forearm,  he  had  seen  the  Jefe  Politico 
shrug  his  shoulders  contemptuously.  And  he  had  seen 
Leoncia  fling  a  passion  of  Spanish  words,  too  quick  for 
him  to  follow,  at  Torres.  And  he  had  seen  and  heard  the 
gesticulation  and  the  roar  of  the  mob-filled  court-room 
as  Torres  had  taken  the  stand. 

But  what  he  had  not  seen  was  the  whispered  colloquy 
between  Torres  and  the  Jefe,  as  the  former  was  in  the 
thick  of  forcing  his  way  through  the  press  to  the  witness 
box.  He  no  more  saw  this  particular  side-play  than  did 
he  know  that  Torres  was  in  the  pay  of  Regan  to  keep 
him  away  from  New  York  as  long  as  possible,  and  as 
long  as  ever  if  possible,  nor  than  did  he  know  that  Torres 
himself,  in  love  with  Leoncia,  was  consumed  with  a 
jealousy  that  knew  no  limit  to  its  ire. 

All  of  which  had  blinded  Francis  to  the  play  under 
the  interrogation  of  Torres  by  Leoncia,  which  had  com 
pelled  Torres  to  acknowledge  that  he  had  never  seen  a 
scar  on  Francis  Morgan's  left  forearm.  While  Leoncia 
had  looked  at  the  little  old  judge  in  triumph,  the  Jefe 
Politico  had  advanced  and  demanded  of  Torres  in  sten 
torian  tones : 

"  Can  you  swear  that  you  ever  saw  a  scar  on  Henry 
Morgan's  arm?  " 

Torres  had  been  baffled  and  embarrassed,  had  looked 


52  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

bewilderment  to  the  judge  and  pleadingness  to  Leoncia, 
and,  in  the  end,  without  speech,  shaken  his  head  that  he 
could  not  so  swear. 

The  roar  of  triumph  had  gone  up  from  the  crowd  of 
ragamuffins.  The  judge  had  pronounced  sentence,  the 
roar  had  doubled  on  itself,  and  Francis  had  been  hustled 
out  and  to  his  cell,  not  entirely  unresistingly,  by  the  gen 
darmes  and  the  Comisario,  all  apparently  solicitous  of 
saving  him  from  the  mob  that  was  unwilling  to  wait  till 
ten  next  morning  for  his  death. 

'  That  poor  dub,  Torres,  who  fell  down  on  the  scar 
on  Henry !  "  Francis  was  meditating  sympathetically, 
when  the  bolts  of  his  cell  door  shot  back  and  he  arose  to 
greet  Leoncia. 

But  she  declined  to  greet  him  for  the  moment,  as  she 
flared  at  the  Comisario  in  rapid-fire  Spanish,  with  ges 
tures  of  command  to  which  he  yielded  when  he  ordered 
the  jailer  to  remove  the  peons  to  other  cells,  and  himself, 
with  a  nervous  and  apologetic  bowing,  went  out  and 
closed  the  door. 

And  then  Leoncia  broke  down,  sobbing  on  his  shoulder, 
in  his  arms :  "  It  is  a  cursed  country,  a  cursed  country. 
There  is  no  fair  play." 

And  as  Francis  held  her  pliant  form,  meltingly  ex 
quisite  in  its  maddeningness  of  woman,  he  remembered 
Henry,  in  his  canvas  pants,  bare-footed,  under  his  floppy 
sombrero,  digging  holes  in  the  sand  of  the  Bull. 

He  tried  to  draw  away  from  the  armful  of  delicious- 
ness,  and  only  half  succeeded.  Still,  at  such  slight  re 
moval  of  distance,  he  essayed  the  intellectual  part,  rather 
than  the  emotional  part  he  desired  all  too  strongly  to 
act. 

"  And  now  I  know  at  last  what  a  frame-up  is,"  he 
assured  her,  farthest  from  the  promptings  of  his  heart. 
"If  these  Latins  of  your  country  thought  more  coolly 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  53 

instead  of  acting  so  passionately,  they  might  be  building 
railroads  and  developing  their  country.  That  trial  was 
a  straight  passionate  frame-up.  They  just  knew  I  was 
guilty  and  were  so  eager  to  punish  me  that  they  wouldn't 
even  bother  for  mere  evidence  or  establishment  of  iden 
tity.  Why  delay?  They  knew  Henry  Morgan  had 
knifed  Alfaro.  They  knew  I  was  Henry  Morgan. 
When  one  knows,  why  bother  to  find  out?  " 

Deaf  to  his  words,  sobbing  and  struggling  to  cling 
closer  while  he  spoke,  the  moment  he  had  finished  she  was 
deep  again  in  his  arms,  against  him,  to  him,  her  lips 
raised  to  his ;  and,  ere  he  was  aware,  his  own  lips  to  hers. 

"  I  love  you,  I  love  you,"  she  whispered  brokenly. 

"  No,  no,"  he  denied  what  he  most  desired.  "  Henry 
and  I  are  too  alike.  It  is  Henry  you  love,  and  I  am  not 
Henry." 

She  tore  herself  away  from  her  own  clinging,  drew 
Henry's  ring  from  her  finger,  and  threw  it  on  the  floor. 
Francis  was  so  beyond  himself  that  he  knew  not  what 
was  going  to  happen  the  next  moment,  and  was  only 
saved  from  whatever  it  might  be  by  the  entrance  of  the 
Comisario,  watch  in  hand,  with  averted  face  striving  to 
see  naught  else  than  the  moments  registered  by  the  sec 
ond-hand  on  the  dial. 

She  stiffened  herself  proudly,  and  all  but  broke  down 
again  as  Francis  slipped  Henry's  ring  back  on  her  finger 
and  kissed  her  hand  in  farewell.  Just  ere  she  passed 
out  the  door  she  turned  and  with  a  whispered  movement 
of  the  lips  that  was  devoid  of  sound  told  him:  "  I  love 
you." 

Promptly  as  the  stroke  of  the  clock,  at  ten  o'clock  Fran 
cis  was  led  out  into  the  jail  patio  where  stood  the  gallows. 
And  all  San  Antonio  was  joyously  and  shoutingly  pres 
ent,  including  much  of  the  neighboring  population  and 


54  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Leoncia,  Enrico  Solano,  and  his  five  tall  sons.  Enrico 
and  his  sons  fumed  and  strutted,  but  Jefe  Politico,  backed 
by  the  Comisario  and  his  gendarmes,  was  adamant.  In 
vain,  as  Francis  was  forced  to  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  did 
Leoncia  strive  to  get  to  him  and  did  her  men  strive  to 
persuade  her  to  leave  the  patio.  In  vain,  also,  did  her 
father  and  brothers  protest  that  Francis  was  not  the  man. 
The  Jefe  Politico  smiled  contemptuously  and  ordered  the 
execution  to  proceed. 

On  top  the  scaffold,  standing  on  the  trap,  Francis  de 
clined  the  ministrations  of  the  priest,  telling  him  in 
Spanish  that  no  innocent  man  being  hanged  needed  in 
tercessions  with  the  next  world,  but  that  the  men  who 
were  doing  the  hanging  were  in  need  of  just  such  inter 
cessions. 

They  had  tied  Francis'  legs,  and  were  in  the  act  of 
tying  his  arms,  with  the  men  who  held  the  noose  and 
the  black  cap  hovering  near  to  put  them  on  him,  when 
the  voice  of  a  singer  was  heard  approaching  from  with 
out  ;  and  the  song  he  sang  was  : 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew." 

Leoncia,  almost  fainting,  recovered  at  the  sound  of 
the  voice,  and  cried  out  with  sharp  delight  as  she  de 
scried  Henry  Morgan  entering,  thrusting  aside  the  guards 
at  the  gate  who  tried  to  bar  his  way. 

At  sight  of  him  the  only  one  present  who  suffered 
chagrin  was  Torres,  which  passed  unnoticed  in  the  ex 
citement.  The  populace  was  in  accord  with  the  Jefe, 
who  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  announced  that  one  man 
was  as  good  as  another  so  long  as  the  hanging  went  on. 
And  here  arose  hot  contention  from  the  Solano  men  that 
Henry  was  likewise  innocent  of  the  murder  of  Alfaro. 
But  it  was  Francis,  from  the  scaffold,  while  his  arms 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  55 

and  legs  were  being  untied,  who  shouted  through  the 
tumult : 

"  You  tried  me!  You  have  not  tried  him!  You  can 
not  hang  a  man  without  a  trial !  He  must  have  his 
trial!" 

And  when  Francis  had  descended  from  the  scaffold  and 
was  shaking  Henry's  hand  in  both  his  own,  the  Com- 
isario,  with  the  Jefe  at  his  back,  duly  arrested  Henry  Mor 
gan  for  the  murder  of  Alfaro  Solano. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  WE  must  work  quickly  —  that  is  the  one  thing  sure," 
Francis  said  to  the  little  conclave  of  Solanos  on  the 
piazza  of  the  Solano  hacienda. 

"  One  thing  sure !  "  Leoncia  cried  out  scornfully  ceas 
ing  from  her  anguished  pacing  up  and  down.  :<  The 
one  thing  sure  is  that  we  must  save  him." 

As  she  spoke,  she  shook  a  passionate  finger  under 
Francis'  nose  to  emphasize  her  point.  Not  content,  she 
shook  her  finger  with  equal  emphasis  under  the  noses  of 
all  and  sundry  of  her  father  and  brothers. 

"  Quick !  "  she  flamed  on.  "  Of  course  we  must  be 
quick.  It  is  that,  or  -  Her  voice  trailed  off  into  the 
unvoiceable  horror  of  what  would  happen  to  Henry  if 
they  were  not  quick. 

"  All  Gringos  look  alike  to  the  Jefe,"  Francis  nodded 
sympathetically.  She  was  splendidly  beautiful  and  won 
derful,  he  thought.  "  He  certainly  runs  all  San  Antonio, 
and  short  shrift  is  his  motto.  He'll  give  Henry  no  more 
time  than  he  gave  me.  We  must  get  him  out  to-night." 

"  Now  listen,"  Leoncia  began  again.  "  We  Solanos 
cannot  permit  this  —  this  execution.  Our  pride  —  our 
honor.  We  cannot  permit  it.  Speak !  any  of  you. 
Father  —  you.  Suggest  something  — 

And  while  the  discussion  went  on,  Francis,  for  the 
first  time  being  silent,  wrestled  deep  in  the  throes  of 
sadness.  Leoncia's  fervor  was  magnificent,  but  it  was 
for  another  man  and  it  did  not  precisely  exhilarate  him. 
Strong  upon  him  was  the  memory  of  the  jail  patio  after 
he  had  been  released  and  Henry  had  been  arrested.  He 
could  still  see,  with  the  same  stab  at  the  heart,  Leoncia 

56 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  57 

in  Henry's  arms,  Henry  seeking  her  hand  to  ascertain  if 
his  ring  was  on  it,  and  the  long  kiss  of  the  embrace  that 
followed. 

Ah,  well,  he  sighed  to  himself,  he  had  done  his  best. 
After  Henry  had  been  led  away  had  he  not  told  Leoncia, 
quite  deliberately  and  coldly,  that  Henry  was  her  man 
and  lover,  and  the  wisest  of  choices  for  the  daughter  of 
the  Solanos? 

But  the  memory  of  it  did  not  make  him  a  bit  happy. 
Nor  did  the  Tightness  of  it.  Right  it  was.  That  he 
never  questioned,  and  it  strengthened  him  into  hardening 
his  heart  against  her.  Yet  the  right  he  found  in  his 
case  to  be  the  sorriest  of  consolation. 

And  yet  what  else  could  he  expect?  It  was  his  mis 
fortune  to  have  arrived  too  late  in  Central  America,  that 
was  all,  and  to  find  this  flower  of  woman  already  annexed 
by  a  previous  comer  —  a  man  as  good  as  himself,  and, 
his  heart  of  fairness  prompted,  even  better.  And  his 
heart  of  fairness  compelled  loyalty  to  Henry  from  him  - 
to  Henry  Morgan,  of  the  breed  and  blood ;  to  Henry  Mor 
gan,  the  wild-fire  descendant  of  a  wild-fire  ancestor,  in 
canvas  pants,  and  floppy  sombrero,  with  a  penchant  for 
the  ears  of  strange  young  men,  living  on  sea  biscuit  and 
turtle  eggs  and  digging  up  the  Bull  and  the  Calf  for  old 
Sir  Henry's  treasure. 

And  while  Enrico  Solano  and  his  sons  talked  plans  and 
projects  on  their  broad  piazza,  to  which  Francis  lent 
only  half  an  ear,  a  house  servant  came,  whispered  in 
Leoncia's  ear,  and  led  her  away  around  the  ell  of  the 
piazza,  where  occurred  a  scene  that  would  have  excited 
Francis'  risibilities  and  wrath. 

Around  the  ell,  Alvarez  Torres,  in  all  the  medieval 
Spanish  splendor  of  dress  of  a  great  haciendado-owner, 
such  as  still  obtains  in  Latin  America,  greeted  her,  bowed 


58  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

low  with  doffed  sombrero  in  hand,  and  seated  her  in  a 
rattan  settee.  Her  own  greeting  was  sad,  but  shot 
through  with  curiousness,  as  if  she  hoped  he  brought 
some  word  of  hope. 

"  The  trial  is  over,  Leoncia,"  he  said  softly,  tenderly, 
as  one  speaks  of  the  dead.  "  He  is  sentenced.  To-mor 
row  at  ten  o'clock  is  the  time.  It  is  all  very  sad,  most 
very  sad.  But—  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  No, 
I  shall  not  speak  harshly  of  him.  He  was  an  honorable 
man.  His  one  fault  was  his  temper.  It  was  too  quick, 
too  fiery.  It  led  him  into  a  mischance  of  honor.  Never, 
in  a  cool  moment  of  reasonableness,  would  he  have  stabbed 
Alfaro — " 

"He  never  killed  my  uncle!"  Leoncia  cried,  raising 
her  averted  face. 

"  And  it  is  regrettable,"  Torres  proceeded  gently  and 
sadly,  avoiding  any  disagreement.  "  The  judge,  the 
people,  the  Jefe  Politico,  unfortunately,  are  all  united  in 
believing  that  he  did.  Which  is  most  regrettable.  But 
which  is  not  what  I  came  to  see  you  about.  I  came  to 
offer  my  service  in  any  and  all  ways  you  may  command. 
My  life,  my  honor,  are  at  your  disposal.  Speak.  I  am 
your  slave." 

Dropping  suddenly  and  gracefully  on  one  knee  before 
her,  he  caught  her  hand  from  her  lap,  and  would  have 
instantly  flooded  on  with  his  speech,  had  not  his  eyes 
lighted  on  the  diamond  ring  on  her  engagement  finger. 
He  frowned,  but  concealed  the  frown  with  bent  face  until 
he  could  drive  it  from  his  features  and  begin  to  speak. 

"  I  knew  you  when  you  were  small,  Leoncia,  so  very, 
very  charmingly  small,  and  I  loved  you  always. —  No, 
listen!  Please.  My  heart  must  speak.  Hear  me  out. 
I  loved  you  always.  But  when  you  returned  from  your 
convent,  from  schooling  abroad,  a  woman,  a  grand  and 
noble  lady  fit  to  rule  in  the  house  of  the  Solanos,  I  was 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  59 

burnt  by  your  beauty.  I  have  been  patient.  I  refrained 
from  speaking.  But  you  may  have  guessed.  You  surely 
must  have  guessed.  I  have  been  on  fire  for  you  ever 
since.  I  have  been  consumed  by  the  flame  of  your 
beauty,  by  the  flame  of  you  that  is  deeper  than  your 
beauty." 

He  was  not  to  be  stopped,  as  she  well  knew,  and  she 
listened  patiently,  gazing  down  on  his  bent  head  and 
wondering  idly  why  his  hair  was  so  unbecomingly  cut, 
and  whether  it  had  been  last  cut  in  New  York  or  San 
Antonio. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  have  been  to  me  ever  since 
your  return  ?  " 

She  did  not  reply,  nor  did  she  endeavor  to  with 
draw  her  hand,  although  his  was  crushing  and  bruising 
her  flesh  against  Henry  Morgan's  ring.  She  forgot  to 
listen,  led  away  by  a  chain  of  thought  that  linked  far. 
Not  in  such  rhodomontade  of  speech  had  Henry  Mor 
gan  loved  and  won  her,  was  the  beginning  of  the  chain. 
Why  did  those  of  Spanish  blood  always  voice  their  emo 
tions  so  exaggeratedly?  Henry  had  been  so  different. 
Scarcely  had  he  spoken  a  word.  He  had  acted.  Under 
her  glamor,  himself  glamoring  her,  without  warning,  so 
certain  was  he  not  to  surprise  and  frighten  her,  he  had 
put  his  arms  around  her  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 
And  hers  had  been  neither  too  startled  nor  altogether 
unresponsive.  Not  until  after  that  first  kiss,  arms  still 
around  her,  had  Henry  begun  to  speak  at  all. 

And  what  plan  was  being  broached  around  the  corner 
of  the  ell  by  her  men  and  Francis  Morgan?  Her  mind 
strayed  on,  deaf  to  the  suitor  at  her  feet.  Francis! 
Ah  —  she  almost  sighed,  and  marveled,  what  of  her  self- 
known  love  for  Henry,  why  this  stranger  Gringo  so  en 
amored  her  heart.  Was  she  a  wanton  ?  Was  it  one  man  ? 
Or  another  man  ?  Or  any  man  ?  No !  No !  She  was  not 


60  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

fickle  nor  unfaithful.  And  yet?  ...  Perhaps  it  was  be 
cause  Francis  and  Henry  were  so  much  alike,  and  her  poor 
stupid  loving  woman's  heart  failed  properly  to  dis 
tinguish  between  them.  And  yet  —  while  it  had  seemed 
she  would  have  followed  Henry  anywhere  over  the  world, 
in  any  luck  or  fortune,  it  seemed  to  her  now  that  she 
would  follow  Francis  even  farther.  She  did  love  Henry, 
her  heart  solemnly  proclaimed.  But  also  did  she  love 
Francis,  and  almost  did  she  divine  that  Francis  loved 
her  —  the  fervor  of  his  lips  on  hers  in  his  prison  cell 
was  inerasable;  and  there  was  a  difference  in  her  love 
for  the  two  men  that  confuted  her  powers  of  reason  and 
almost  drove  her  to  the  shameful  conclusion  that  she,  the 
latest  and  only  woman  of  the  house  of  Solano,  was  a 
wanton. 

A  severe  pinch  of  her  flesh  against  Henry's  ring, 
caused  by  the  impassioned  grasp  of  Torres,  brought  her 
back  to  him,  so  that  she  could  hear  the  spate  of  his 
speech  pouring  on : 

"  You  have  been  the  delicious  thorn  in  my  side,  the 
spiked  rowel  of  the  spur  forever  prodding  the  sweetest 
and  most  poignant  pangs  of  love  into  my  breast.  I  have 
dreamed  of  you  —  and  for  you.  And  I  have  my  own 
name  for  you.  Ever  the  one  name  I  have  had  for  you : 
the  Queen  of  my  Dreams.  And  you  will  marry  me, 
my  Leoncia.  We  will  forget  this  mad  Gringo  who  is 
as  already  dead.  I  shall  be  gentle,  kind.  I  shall  love 
you  always.  And  never  shall  any  vision  of  him  arise 
between  us.  For  myself,  I  shall  not  permit  it.  For 
you  —  I  shall  love  you  so  that  it  will  be  impossible 
for  the  memory  of  him  to  arise  beween  us  and  give  you 
one  moment's  heart-hurt." 

Leoncia  debated  in  a  long  pause  that  added  fuel  to 
Torres'  hopes.  She  felt  the  need  to  temporize.  If 
Henry  were  to  be  saved  .  .  .  and  had  not  Torres  offered 


' 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  6l 

his  services?  Not  lightly  could  she  turn  him  away  when 
a  man's  life  might  depend  upon  him. 

"Speak!  —  I  am  consuming!"  Torres  urged  in  a 
choking  voice. 

"  Hush!  Hush!  "  she  said  softly.  "  How  can  I  lis 
ten  to  love  from  a  live  man,  when  the  man  I  loved  is 
yet  alive?  " 

Loz'ed!  The  past  tense  of  it  startled  her.  Likewise 
it  startled  Torres,  fanning  his  hopes  to  fairer  flames. 
Almost  was  she  his.  She  had  said  loved.  She  no  longer 
bore  love  for  Henry.  She  had  loved  him,  but  no  longer. 
And  she,  a  maid  and  woman  of  delicacy  and  sensibility, 
could  not,  of  course,  give  name  to  her  love  for  him  while 
the  other  man  still  lived.  It  was  subtle  of  her.  He 
prided  himself  on  his  own  subtlety,  and  he  flattered  him- 
self  that  he  had  interpreted  her  veiled  thought  aright. 
And  .  .  .  well,  he  resolved,  he  would  see  to  it  that  the 
man  who  was  to  die  at  ten  next  morning  should  have 
neither  reprieve  nor  rescue.  The  one  thing  clear,  if  he 
was  to  win  Leoncia  quickly,  was  that  Henry  Morgan 
should  die  quickly. 

"  We  will  speak  of  it  no  more  —  now,"  he  said  with 
chivalric  gentleness,  as  he  gently  pressed  her  hand,  rose 
to  his  feet,  and  gazed  down  on  her. 

She  returned  a  soft  pressure  of  thanks  with  her  own 
hand  ere  she  released  it  and  stood  up. 

"  Come,"  she  said.  "  We  will  join  the  others.  They 
are  planning  now,  or  trying  to  find  some  plan,  to  save 
Henry  Morgan." 

The  conversation  of  the  group  ebbed  away  as  they 
joined  it,  as  if  out  of  half-suspicion  of  Torres. 

''Have  you  hit  upon  anything  yet?"  Leoncia  asked. 

Old  Enrico,  straight  and  slender  and  graceful  as  any 
of  his  sons  despite  his  age,  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  a  plan,  if  you  will  pardon  me,"  Torres  began, 


62  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

but  ceased  at  a  warning  glance  from  Alesandro,  the  eldest 
son. 

On  the  walk,  below  the  piazza,  had  appeared  two  scare 
crows  of  beggar  boys.  Not  more  than  ten  years  of  age, 
by  their  size,  they  seemed  much  older  when  judged  by 
the  shrewdness  of  their  eyes  and  faces.  Each  wore  a 
single  marvelous  garment,  so  that  between  them  it  could 
be  said  they  shared  a  shirt  and  pants.  But  such  a  shirt ! 
And  such  pants !  The  latter,  man-size,  of  ancient  duck, 
were  buttoned  around  the  lad's  neck,  the  waistband  reefed 
with  knotted  twine  so  as  not  to  slip  down  over  his  shoul 
ders.  His  arms  were  thrust  through  the  holes  where  the 
side-pockets  had  been.  The  legs  of  the  pants  had  been 
hacked  off  with  a  knife  to  suit  his  own  diminutive  length 
of  limb.  The  tails  of  the  man's  g'hirt  on  the  other  boy 
dragged  on  the  ground. 

"  Vamosl "  Alesandro  shouted  fiercely  at  them  to 
be  gone. 

But  the  boy  in  the  pants  gravely  removed  a  stone  which 
he  had  been  carrying  on  top  of  his  bare  head,  exposing 
a  letter  which  had  been  thus  carried.  Alesandro  leaned 
over,  took  the  letter,  and  with  a  glance  at  the  inscription 
passed  it  to  Leoncia,  while  the  boys  began  whining  for 
money.  Francis,  smiling  despite  himself  at  the  spectacle 
of  them,  tossed  them  a  few  pieces  of  small  silver,  where 
upon  the  shirt  and  the  pants  toddled  away  down  the  path. 

The  letter  was  from  Henry,  and  Leoncia  scanned  it 
hurriedly.  It  was  not  precisely  in  farewell,  for  he  wrote 
in  the  tenor  of  a  man  who  never  expected  to  die  save  by 
some  inconceivable  accident.  Nevertheless,  on  the  chance 
of  such  inconceivable  thing  becoming  possible,  Henry 
did  manage  to  say  good-by  and  to  include  a  facetious 
recommendation  to  Leoncia  not  to  forget  Francis  who 
was  well  worth  remembering  because  he  was  so  much 
like  himself,  Henry. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  63 


Leoncia's  first  impulse  was  to  show  the  letter  to  the 
others,  but  the  portion  about  Francis  withstrained  her. 

"  It's  from  Henry,"  she  said  tucking  the  note  into  her 
bosom.  '  There  is  nothing  of  importance.  He  seems  to 
have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  he  will  escape  somehow." 

"  We  shall  see  that  he  does,"  Francis  declared  posi 
tively. 

With  a  grateful  smile  to  him,  and  with  one  of  inter 
rogation  to  Torres,  Leoncia  said : 

"  You  were  speaking  of  a  plan,  Senor  Torres?  " 

Torres  smiled,  twisted  his  mustache,  and  struck  an  atti 
tude  of  importance. 

"  There  is  one  way,  the  Gringo,  Anglo-Saxon  way,  and 
it  is  simple,  straight  to  the  point.  That  is  just  what  it  is, 
straight  to  the  point.  We  will  go  and  take  Henry  out  of 
the  jail  in  forthright,  brutal  and  direct  Gringo  fashion. 
It  is  the  one  thing  they  will  not  expect.  Therefore,  it 
will  succeed.  There  are  enough  unhung  rascals  on  the 
beach  with  which  to  storm  the  jail.  Hire  them,  pay  them 
well,  but  only  partly  in  advance,  and  the  thing  is  ac 
complished." 

Leoncia  nodded  eager  agreement.  Old  Enrico's  eyes 
flashed  and  his  nostrils  distended  as  if  already  sniffing 
gunpowder.  The  young  men  were  taking  fire  from  his 
example.  And  all  looked  to  Francis  for  his  opinion  or 
agreement.  He  shook  his  head  slowly,  and  Leoncia 
uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  disappointment  in  him. 

"  That  way  is  hopeless,"  he  said.  "  Why  should  all 
of  you  risk  your  necks  in  a  madcap  attempt  like  that, 
doomed  to  failure  from  the  start?"  As  he  talked,  he 
strode  across  from  Leoncia's  side  to  the  railing  in  such 
way  as  to  be  for  a  moment  between  Torres  and  the 
other  men,  and  at  the  same  time  managed  a  warning  look 
to  Enrico  and  his  sons.  "  As  for  Henry,  it  looks  as  if 
it  were  all  up  with  him  — 


64  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

^  You  mean  you  doubt  me?  "  Torres  bristled. 

"  Heavens,  man,"   Francis  protested. 

But  Torres  dashed  on :  "  You  mean  that  I  am  forbid 
den  by  you,  a  man  I  have  scarcely  met,  from  the  councils 
of  the  Solanos  who  are  my  oldest  and  most  honored 
friends." 

Old  Enrico,  who  had  not  missed  the  rising  wrath 
against  Francis  in  Leoncia's  face,  succeeded  in  conveying 
a  warning  to  her,  ere,  with  a  courteous  gesture,  he  hushed 
Torres  and  began  to  speak. 

"  There  are  no  councils  of  the  Solanos  from  which  you 
are  barred,  Sefior  Torres.  You  are  indeed  an  old  friend 
of  the  family.  Your  late  father  and  I  were  comrades, 
almost  brothers.  But  that  —  and  you  will  pardon  an  old 
man's  judgment  —  does  not  prevent  Sefior  Morgan  from 
being  right  when  he  says  your  plan  is  hopeless.  To 
storm  the  jail  is  truly  madness.  Look  at  the  thickness  of 
the  walls.  They  could  stand  a  siege  of  weeks.  And 
yet,  and  I  confess  it,  almost  was  I  tempted  when  you  first 
broached  the  idea.  Now  when  I  was  a  young  man, 
fighting  the  Indians  in  the  high  Cordilleras,  there  was  a 
very  case  in  point. —  Come,  let  us  all  be  seated  and  com 
fortable,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  tale  .  .  ." 

But  Torres,  busy  with  many  things,  declined  to  wait, 
and  with  soothed  amicable  feelings  shook  hands  all 
around,  briefly  apologized  to  Francis,  and  departed  astride 
his  silver-saddled  and  silver-bridled  horse  for  San  An 
tonio.  One  of  the  things  that  busied  him  was  the  cable 
correspondence  maintained  between  him  and  Thomas  Re 
gan's  Wall  Street  office.  Having  secret  access  to  the  Pan 
amanian  government  wireless  station  at  San  Antonio,  he 
was  thus  able  to  relay  messages  to  the  cable  station  at  Vera 
Cruz.  Not  alone  was  his  relationship  with  Regan  prov 
ing  lucrative,  but  it  was  jibing  in  with  his  own  personal 
plans  concerning  Leoncia  and  the  Morgans. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  65 

"  What  have  you  against  Senor  Torres,  that  you  should 
reject  his  plan  and  anger  him?"  Leoncia  demanded  of 
Francis. 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  answer,  "  except  that  we  do  not 
need  him,  and  that  I'm  not  exactly  infatuated  with  him. 
He  is  a  fool  and  would  spoil  any  plan.  Look  at  the  way 
he  fell  down  on  testifying  at  my  trial.  Maybe  he  can't  be 
trusted.  I  don't  know.  Anyway,  what's  the  good  of 
trusting  him  when  we  don't  need  him?  Now  his  plan 
is  all  right.  We'll  go  straight  to  the  jail  and  take  Henry 
out,  if  all  you  are  game  for  it.  And  we  don't  need 
to  trust  to  a  mob  of  unhung  rascals  and  beach-sweep 
ings.  If  the  six  men  of  us  can't  do  it,  we  might  as 
well  quit." 

"  There  must  be  at  least  a  dozen  guards  always  hang 
ing  out  at  the  jail,"  Ricardo,  Leoncia's  youngest  brother, 
a  lad  of  eighteen,  objected. 

Leoncia,  her  eagerness  alive  again,  frowned  at  him; 
but  Francis  took  his  part. 

"  Wfell  taken,"  he  agreed.  "  But  we  will  eliminate 
the  guards." 

"  The  five- foot  walls,"  said  Martinez  Solano,  twin 
brother  to  Alvarado. 

"  Go  through  them,"  Francis  answered. 

"  But  how?  "  Leoncia  cried. 

"  That's  what  I  am  arriving  at.  You,  Senor  Solano, 
have  plenty  of  saddle  horses?  Good. —  And  you,  Ales- 
andro,  does  it  chance  you  could  procure  me  a  couple  of 
sticks  of  dynamite  from  around  the  plantation?  Good, 
and  better  than  good.  And  you,  Leoncia,  as  the  lady  of 
the  hacienda,  should  know  whether  you  have  in  your 
store-room  a  plentiful  supply  of  that  three-star  rye 
whiskey? 

""  Ah,  the  plot  thickens,"  he  laughed,  on  receiving  her 
assurance.  "  We've  all  the  properties  for  a  Rider  Hag- 


66  HEARTS    OF    THREE  ( 

gard  or  Rex  Beach  adventure  tale.  Now  listen. —  But 
wait.  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Leoncia,  about  private  theat 
ricals. 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  was  in  the  mid-afternoon,  and  Henry,  at  his  barred 
cell-window,  stared  out  into  the  street'  and  wondered  if 
any  sort  of  breeze  would  ever  begin  to  blow  from  off 
Chiriqui  Lagoon  and  cool  the  stagnant  air.  The  street 
was  dusty  and  filthy  —  filthy,  because  the  only  scavengers 
it  had  ever  known  since  the  town  was  founded  centuries 
before  were  the  carrion  dogs  and  obscene  buzzards  even 
then  prowling  and  hopping  about  in  the  debris.  Low, 
whitewashed  buildings  of  stone  and  adobe  made  the 
street  a  furnace. 

The  white  of  it  all,  and  the  dust,  was  almost  achingly 
intolerable  to  the  eyes,  and  Henry  would  have  withdrawn 
his  gaze,  had  not  the  several  ragged  mosos,  dozing  in  a 
doorway  opposite,  suddenly  aroused  and  looked  inter 
estedly  up  the  street.  Henry  could  not  see,  but  he  could 
hear  the  rattling  spokes  of  some  vehicle  coming  at  speed. 
Next,  it  surged  into  view,  a  rattle-trap  light  wagon  drawn 
by  a  runaway  horse.  In  the  seat  a  gray-headed,  gray- 
bearded  ancient  strove  vainly  to  check  the  animal. 

Henry  smiled  and  marveled  that  the  rickety  wagon 
could  hold  together,  so  prodigious  were  the  bumps  and 
jumps  imparted  to  it  by  the  deep  ruts.  Every  wheel, 
half -dished  and  threatening  to  dish,  wobbled  and  revolved 
out  of  line  with  every  other  wheel.  And  if  the  wagon 
held  intact,  Henry  judged,  it  was  a  miracle  that  the  crazy 
harness  did  not  fly  to  pieces.  When  directly  opposite  the 
window,  the  old  man  made  a  last  effort,  half-standing  up 
from  the  seat  as  he  pulled  on  the  reins.  One  was  rotten 
and  broke.  As  the  driver  fell  backward  into  the  seat, 
his  weight  on  the  remaining  rein  caused  the  horse  to 

67 


68  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

swerve  sharply  to  the  right.  What  happened  then  — 
whether  a  wheel  dished,  or  whether  a  wheel  had  come 
off  first  and  dished  afterwards  —  Henry  could  not  de 
termine.  The  one  incontestable  thing  was  that  the  wagon 
was  a  wreck.  The  old  man,  dragging  in  the  dust  and 
stubbornly  hanging  on  to  the  remaining  rein,  swung 
the  horse  in  a  circle  until  it  stopped,  facing  him  and 
snorting  at  him. 

By  the  time  he  gained  his  feet  a  crowd  of  mosos  was 
forming  about  him.  These  were  roughly  shouldered 
right  and  left  by  the  gendarmes  who  erupted  from  the 
jail.  Henry  remained  at  the  window  and,  for  a  man 
with  but  few  hours  to  live,  was  an  amused  spectator  and 
listener  to  what  followed. 

Giving  his  horse  to  a  gendarme  to  hold,  not  stopping 
to  brush  the  filth  from  his  person,  the  old  man  limped 
hurriedly  to  the  wagon  and  began  an  examination  of  the 
several  packing  cases,  large  and  small,  which  composed 
its  load.  Of  one  case  he  was  especially  solicitous,  even 
trying  to  lift  it  and  seeming  to  listen  as  he  lifted. 

He  straightened  up,  on  being  addressed  by  one  of  the 
gendarmes,  and  made  voluble  reply. 

"  Me?  Alas,  sefiors,  I  am  an  old  man,  and  far  from 
home.  I  am  Leopoldo  Narvaez.  It  is  true,  my  mother 
was  German,  may  the  Saints  preserve  her  rest;  but  my 
father  was  Baltazar  de  Jesus  y  Cervallos  e  Narvaez,  son 
of  General  Narvaez  of  martial  memory  who  fought 
under  the  great  Bolivar  himself.  And  now  I  am  half 
ruined  and  far  from  home." 

Prompted  by  other  questions,  interlarded  with  the 
courteous  expressions  of  sympathy  with  which  even  the 
humblest  moso  is  over  generously  supplied,  he  managed 
to  be  politely  grateful  and  to  run  on  with  his  tale. 

"  I  have  driven  from  Bocas  del  Toro.  It  has  taken  me 
five  days,  and  business  has  been  poor.  My  home  is  in 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  69 

Colon,  and  I  wish  I  were  safely  there.  But  even  a  noble 
Narvaez  may  be  a  peddler,  and  even  a  peddler  must  live, 
eh,  senors,  is  it  not  so  ?  But  tell  me,  is  there  not  a  Tomas 
Romero  who  dwells  in  this  pleasant  city  of  San  An 
tonio?" 

"  There  are  any  God's  number  of  Tomas  Romeros  who 
dwell  everywhere  in  Panama,"  laughed  Pedro  Zurita, 
the  assistant  jailer.  "  One  would  need  fuller  descrip 
tion." 

"  He  is  the  cousin  of  my  second  wife,"  the  ancient  an 
swered  hopefully,  and  seemed  bewildered  by  the  roar  of 
laughter  from  the  crowd. 

"  And  a  dozen  Tomas  Romeros  live  in  and  about  San 
Antonio,"  the  assistant  jailer  went  on,  "  any  one  of  which 
may  be  your  second  wife's  cousin,  seiior.  There  is 
Tomas  Romero,  the  drunkard.  There  is  Tomas  Romero, 
the  thief.  There  is  Tomas  Romero  —  but  no,  he  was 
hanged  a  month  back  for  murder  and  robbery.  There  is 
the  rich  Tomas  Romero  who  owns  many  cattle  on  the 
hills.  There  is  — 

To  each  suggested  one,  Leopoldo  Narvaez  had  shaken 
his  head  dolefully,  until  the  cattle-owner  was  mentioned. 
At  this  he  had  become  hopeful  and  broken  in: 

"  Pardon  me,  senor,  it  must  be  he,  or  some  such  a 
one  as  he.  I  shall  find  him.  If  my  precious  stock-in- 
trade  can  be  safely  stored,  I  shall  seek  him  now.  It 
is  well  my  misfortune  came  upon  me  where  it  did.  I 
shall  be  able  to  trust  it  with  you,  who  are,  one  can  see 
,with  half  an  eye,  an  honest  and  an  honorable  man." 
As  he  talked,  he  fumbled  forth  from  his  pocket  two  silver 
pesos  and  handed  them  to  the  jailer.  "  There,  I  wish 
you  and  your  men  to  have  some  pleasure  of  assisting 
me." 

Henry  grinned  to  himself  as  he  noted  the  access  of 
interest  in  the  old  man  and  of  consideration  for  him, 


7O  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

on  the  part  of»  Pedro  Zurita  and  the  gendarmes,  caused 
by  the  present  of  the  coins.  They  shoved  the  more  cu 
rious  of  the  crowd  roughly  back  from  the  wrecked 
wagon  and  began  to  carry  the  boxes  into  the  jail. 

"  Careful,  seriors,  careful,"  the  old  one  pleaded,  greatly 
anxious,  as  they  took  hold  of  the  big  box.  "  Handle  it 
gently.  It  is  of  value,  and  it  is  fragile,  most  fragile." 

While  the  contents  of  the  wagon  were  being  carried 
into  the  jail,  the  old  man  removed  and  deposited  in  the 
wagon  all  harness  from  the  horse  save  the  bridle. 

Pedro  Zurita  ordered  the  harness  taken  in  as  well, 
explaining,  with  a  glare  at  the  miserable  crowd :  "  Not 
a  strap  or  buckle  would  remain  the  second  after  our 
backs  were  turned." 

Using  what  was  left  of  the  wagon  for  a  stepping  block, 
and  ably  assisted  by  the  jailer  and  his  crew,  the  peddler 
managed  to  get  astride  his  animal. 

"It  is  well,"  he  said,  and  added  gratefully:  "A 
thousand  thanks,  sefiors.  It  has  been  my  good  fortune 
to  meet  with  honest  men  with  whom  my  goods  will  be 
safe  —  only  poor  goods,  peddler's  goods,  you  under 
stand;  but  to  me,  everything,  my  way  upon  the  road. 
The  pleasure  has  been  mine  to  meet  you.  To-morrow 
I  shall  return  with  my  kinsman,  whom  I  certainly  shall 
find,  and  relieve  from  you  the  burden  of  safeguarding  my 
inconsiderable  property."  He  doffed  his  hat.  "  Adios, 
senors,  adios! " 

He  rode  away  at  a  careful  walk,  timid  of  the  animal 
he  bestrode  which  had  caused  his  catastrophe.  He  halted 
and  turned  his  head  at  a  call  from  Pedro  Zurita. 

"  Search  the  graveyard,  Sefior  Narvaez,"  the  jailer  ad 
vised.  "  Full  a  hundred  Tomas  Romeros  lie  there." 

"  And  be  vigilant,  I  beg  of  you,  sefior,  of  the  heavy 
box,"  the  peddler  called  back. 

Henry  watched  the  street  grow  deserted  as  the  gen- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  71 

darmes  and  the  populace  fled  from  the  scorch  of  the 
sun. —  Small  wonder,  he  thought  to  himself,  that  the 
old  peddler's  voice  had  sounded  vaguely  familiar.  It 
had  been  because  he  had  possessed  only  half  a  Spanish 
tongue  to  twist  around  the  language  —  the  other  half 
being  the  German  tongue  of  the  mother.  Even  so,  he 
talked  like  a  native,  and  he  would  be  robbed  like  a  native 
if  there  were  anything  of  value  in  the  heavy  box  deposited 
with  the  jailers,  Henry  concluded,  ere  dismissing  the  inci 
dent  from  his  mind. 

In  the  guardroom,  a  scant  fifty  feet  away  from 
Henry's  cell,  Leopoldo  Narvaez  was  being  robbed.  It 
had  begun  by  Pedro  Zurita  making  a  profound  and  wist 
ful  survey  of  the  large  box.  He  lifted  one  end  of  it  to 
sample  its  weight,  and  sniffed  like  a  hound  at  the  crack 
of  it  as  if  his  nose  might  give  him  some  message  of  its 
contents. 

"  Leave  it  alone,  Pedro,"  one  of  the  gendarmes  laughed 
at  him.  '  You  have  been  paid  two  pesos  to  be 
honest." 

The  assistant  jailer  sighed,  walked  away  and  sat  down, 
looked  back  at  the  box,  and  sighed  again.  Conversation 
languished.  Continually  the  eyes  of  the  men  roved  to 
the  box.  A  greasy  pack  of  cards  could  not  divert  them. 
The  game  languished.  The  gendarme  who  had  twitted 
Pedro  himself  went  to  the  box  and  sniffed. 

"  I  smell  nothing,"  he  announced.  "  Absolutely  in  the 
box  there  is  nothing  to  smell.  Now  what  can  it  be? 
The  caballero  said  that  it  was  of  value !  " 

"Caballero!"  sniffed  another  of  the  gendarmes. 
"  The  old  man's  father  was  more  like  to  have  been  ped 
dler  of  rotten  fish  on  the  streets  of  Colon  and  his  father 
before  him.  Every  lying  beggar  claims  descent  from  the 
conquistadores." 


72  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"And  why  not,  Rafael?"  Pedro  Zurita  retorted. 
"  Are  we  not  all  so  descended?" 

"  Without  doubt,"  Rafael  readily  agreed.  "  The  con- 
quistadores  slew  many  —  " 

"  And  were  the  ancestors  of  those  that  survived,"  Pe 
dro  completed  for  him  and  aroused  a  general  laugh. 
"  Just  the  same,  almost  I  would  give  one  of  these  pesos 
to  know  what  is  in  that  box." 

1  There  is  Ignacio,"  Rafael  greeted  the  entrance  of  a 
turnkey  whose  heavy  eyes  tokened  he  was  just  out  of  his 
siesta.  "  He  was  not  paid  to  be  honest.  Come,  Ignacio, 
relieve  our  curiosity  by  letting  us  know  what  is  in  the 
box." 

"How  should  I  know?"  Ignacio  demanded,  blinking 
at  the  object  of  interest.  "  Only  now  have  I  awakened." 

'  You  have  not  been  paid  to  be  honest,  then?  "  Rafael 
asked. 

"  Merciful  Mother  of  God,  who  is  the  man  who  would 
pay  me  to  be  honest  ?  "  the  turnkey  demanded. 

'  Then  take  the  hatchet  there  and  open  the  box," 
Rafael  drove  his  point  home.  "  We  may  not,  for  as 
surely  as  Pedro  is  to  share  the  two  pesos  with  us,  that 
surely  have  we  been  paid  to  be  honest.  Open  the  box, 
Ignacio,  or  we  shall  perish  of  our  curiosity." 

"  We  will  look,  we  will  only  look,"  Pedro  muttered 

nervously,  as  the  turnkey  pried  off  a  board  with  the  blade 

of  the  hatchet.     "  Then  we  will  close  the  box  again  and 

-  Put  your  hand  in,  Ignacio.     What  is  it  you  find  ?  — 

eh  ?     What  does  it  feel  like  ?  —  Ah !  " 

After  pulling  and  tugging,  Ignacio's  hand  had  reap 
peared,  clutching  a  cardboard  carton. 

"  Remove  it  carefully,  for  it  must  be  replaced,"  the 
jailer  cautioned. 

And  when  the  wrappings  of  paper  and  tissue  paper 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  73 

were  removed,  all  eyes  focused  on  a  quart  bottle  of  rye 
whiskey. 

"  How  excellently  is  it  composed,"  Pedro  murmured 
in  tones  of  awe.  "  It  must  be  very  good  that  such  care 
be  taken  of  it." 

"  It  is  Americano  whiskey,"  sighed  a  gendarme. 
"  Once,  only,  have  I  drunk  Americano  whiskey.  It  was 
wonderful.  Such  was  the  courage  of  it,  that  I  leaped 
into  the  bull-ring  at  Santos  and  faced  a  wild  bull  with 
my  hands.  It  is  true,  the  bull  rolled  me,  but  did  I  not 
leap  into  the  ring?  " 

Pedro  took  the  bottle  and  prepared  to  knock  its  neck 
off. 

"  Hold ! ''  cried  Rafael.  "  You  were  paid  to  t>e  hon 
est." 

"  By  a  man  who  was  not  himself  honest,"  came  the 
retort.  "  The  stuff  is  contraband.  It  has  never  paid 
duty.  The  old  man  was  in  possession  of  smuggled 
goods.  Let  us  now  gratefully  and  with  clear  consciences 
invest  in  its  possession.  We  will  confiscate  it.  We  will 
destroy  it." 

Not  waiting  for  the  bottle  to  pass,  Ignacio  and  Rafael 
unwrapped  fresh  ones  and  broke  off  the  necks. 

"  Three  stars  —  most  excellent,"  Pedro  Zurita  orated 
in  a  pause,  pointing  to  the  trade  mark.  '  You  see,  all 
Gringo  whiskey  is  good.  One  star  shows  that  it  is  good ; 
two  stars  that  it  is  excellent;  three  stars  that  it  is  superb, 
the  best,  and  better  than  beyond  that.  Ah,  I  know. 
The  Gringos  are  strong  on  strong  drink.  No  pulque  for 
them." 

"And  four  stars?"  queried  Ignacio,  his  voice  husky 
from  the  liquor,  the  moisture  glistening  in  his  eyes. 

"  Four  stars  ?  Friend  Ignacio,  four  stars  would  be 
either  sudden  death  or  translation  into  paradise." 


74  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

In  not  many  minutes,  Rafael,  his  arm  around  another 
gendarme,  was  calling  him  brother  and  proclaiming  that 
it  took  little  to  make  men  happy  here  below. 

"  The  old  man  was  a  fool,  three  times  a  fool)  and 
thrice  that,"  volunteered  Augustino,  a  sullen- faced  gen 
darme,  who  for  the  first  time  gave  tongue  to  speech. 

"  Viva  Augustino!"  cheered  Rafael.  "The  three 
stars  have  worked  a  miracle.  Behold!  Have  they  not 
unlocked  Augustino's  mouth?" 

"  And  thrice  times  thrice  again  was  the  old  man  a 
fool !  "  Augustino  bellowed  fiercely.  "  The  very  drink 
of  the  gods  was  his,  all  his,  and  he  has  been  five  days 
alone  with  it  on  the  road  from  Bocas  del  Toro,  and 
never  taken  one  little  sip.  Such  fools  as  he  should  be 
stretched  out  naked  on  an  ant-heap,  say  I." 

"  The  old  man  was  a  rogue,"  quoth  Pedro.  "  And 
when  he  comes  back  to-morrow  for  his  three  stars  I 
shall  arrest  him  for  a  smuggler.  It  will  be  a  feather  in 
all  our  caps." 

"If  we  destroy  the  evidence  —  thus?"  queried  Aug 
ustino,  knocking  off  another  neck. 

"  We  will  save  the  evidence  —  thus,"  Pedro  replied, 
smashing  an  empty  bottle  on  the  stone  flags.  "  Listen 
comrades.  The  box  was  very  heavy  —  we  are  all  agreed. 
It  fell.  The  bottles  broke.  The  liquor  ran  out,  and  so 
were  we  made  aware  of  the  contraband.  The  box  and 
the  broken  bottles  will  be  evidence  sufficient." 

The  uproar  grew  as  the  liquor  diminished.  One  gen 
darme  quarreled  with  Ignacio  over  a  forgotten  debt  of 
ten  centavos.  Two  others  sat  upon  the  floor,  arms 
around  each  other's  necks,  and  wept  over  the  miseries 
of  their  married  lot.  Augustino,  like  a  very  spendthrift 
of  speech,  explained  his  philosophy  that  silence  was 
golden.  And  Pedro  Zurita  became  sentimental  on 
brotherhood. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  75 

"  Even  my  prisoners,"  he  maundered.  "  I  love  them 
as  brothers.  Life  is  sad."  A  gush  of  tears  in  his  eyes 
made  him  desist  while  he  took  another  drink.  "  My 
prisoners  are  my  very  children.  My  heart  bleeds  for 
them.  Behold!  I  weep.  Let  us  share  with  them. 
Let  them  have  a  moment's  happiness. —  Ignacio,  dearest 
brother  of  my  heart.  Do  me  a  favor.  See,  I  weep  on 
your  hand.  Carry  a  bottle  of  this  elixir  to  the  Gringo 
Morgan.  Tell  him  my  sorrow  that  he  must  hang  to 
morrow.  Give  him  my  love  and  bid  him  drink  and  be 
happy  to-day." 

And  as  Ignacio  passed  out  on  the  errand,  the  gendarme 
who  had  once  leapt  into  the  bull-ring  at  Santos,  began 
roaring : 

"  I  want  a  bull !     I  want  a  bull !  " 

"  He  wants  it,  dear  soul,  that  he  may  put  his  arms 
around  it  and  love  it,"  Pedro  Zurita  explained,  with  a 
fresh  access  of  weeping.  "  I,  too,  love  bulls.  I  love  all 
things.  I  love  even  mosquitos.  All  the  world  is  love. 
That  is  the  secret  of  the  world.  I  should  like  to  have 
a  lion  to  play  with.  .  .  ." 

The  unmistakable  air  of  "  Back  to  Back  Against  the 
Mainmast "  being  whistled  openly  in  the  street,  caught 
Henry's  attention,  and  he  was  crossing  his  big  cell  to  the 
window  when  the  grating  of  a  key  in  the  door  made  him 
lie  down  quickly  on  the  floor  and  feign  sleep.  Ignacio 
staggered  drunkenly  in,  bottle  in  hand,  which  he  gravely 
presented  to  Henry. 

"  With  the  high  compliments  of  our  good  jailer,  Pedro 
Zurita,"  he  mumbled.  "  He  says  to  drink  and  forget 
that  he  must  stretch  your  neck  to-morrow." 

"  My  high  compliments  to  Senor  Pedro  Zurita,  and 
tell  him  from  me  to  go  to  hell  along  with  his  whiskey," 
Henry  replied. 


76  HEARTS    OF   THREE 

The  turnkey  straightened  up  and  ceased  swaying,  as 
if  suddenly  become  sober. 

:<  Very  well,  sefior,"  he  said,  then  passed  out  and  locked 
the  door. 

In  a  rush  Henry  was  at  the  window  just  in  time  to 
encounter  Francis  face  to  face  and  thrusting  a  revolver 
to  him  through  the  bars. 

"  Greetings,  camarada,"  Francis  said.  "  We'll  have 
you  out  of  here  in  a  jiffy."  He  held  up  two  sticks  of 
dynamite,  with  fuse  and  caps  complete.  "  I  nave  brought 
this  pretty  crowbar  to  pry  you  out.  Stand  well  back  in 
your  cell,  because  real  pronto  there's  going  to  be  a  hole 
in  this  wall  that  we  could  sail  the  Angelique  through. 
And  the  Angelique  is  right  off  the  beach  waiting  for  you. 
-  Now,  stand  back.  I'm  going  to  touch  her  off.  It's 
a  short  fuse." 

Hardly  had  Henry  backed  into  a  rear  corner  of  his 
cell,  when  the  door  was  clumsily  unlocked  to  a  babel  of 
cries  and  imprecations,  chiefest  among  which  he  could 
hear  the  ancient  and  invariable  war-cry  of  Latin-Amer 
ica,  "  Kill  the  Gringo  !  " 

Also,  he  could  hear  Rafael  and  Pedro,  as  they  entered, 
babbling,  the  one :  "  He  is  the  enemy  of  brotherly 
love  " ;  and  the  other,  "  He  said  I  was  to  go  to  hell  — 
is  not  that  what  he  said,  Ignacio?  " 

In  their  hands  they  carried  rifles,  and  behind  them 
surged  the  drunken  rabble  variously  armed  from  cutlasses 
and  horsepistols  to  hatchets  and  bottles.  At  sight  of 
Henry's  revolver,  they  halted,  and  Pedro,  fingering  his 
rifle  unsteadily,  maundered  solemnly: 

"  Senor  Morgan,  you  are  about  to  take  up  your  right 
ful  abode  in  hell." 

But  Ignacio  did  not  wait.  He  fired  wildly  and  widely 
from  his  hip,  missing  Henry  by  half  the  width  of  the 
cell  and  going  down  the  next  moment  under  the  impact 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  77 

of  Henry's  bullet.  The  rest  retreated  precipitately  into 
the  jail  corridor,  where,  themselves  unseen,  they  began 
discharging  their  weapons  into  the  room. 

Thanking  his  fortunate  stars  for  the  thickness  of  the 
walls,  and  hoping  no  ricochet  would  get  him,  Henry  shel 
tered  in  a  protecting  angle  and  waited  for  the  explosion. 

It  came.  The  window  and  the  wall  beneath  it  became 
all  one  aperture.  Struck  on  the  head  by  a  flying  frag 
ment,  Henry  sank  down  dizzily,  and,  as  the  dust  of  the 
mortar  and  the  powder  cleared,  with  wavering  eyes  he 
saw  Francis  apparently  swim  through  the  hole.  By  the 
time  he  had  been  dragged  out  through  the  hole,  Henry 
was  himself  again.  He  could  see  Enrico  Solano  and 
Ricardo,  his  youngest  born,  rifles  in  hand,  holding  back 
the  crowd  forming  up  the  street,  while  the  twins,  Alvar- 
ado  and  Martinez,  similarly  held  back  the  crowd  forming 
down  the  street. 

But  the  populace  was  merely  curious,  having  its  lives 
to  lose  and  nothing  to  gain  if  it  attempted  to  block  the 
way  of  such  masterful  men  as  these  who  blew  up  walls 
and  stormed  jails  in  open  day.  And  it  gave  back  re 
spectfully  before  the  compact  group  as  it  marched  down 
the  street. 

"  The  horses  are  waiting  up  the  next  alley,"  Francis 
told  Henry,  as  they  gripped  hands.  "  And  Leoncia  is 
waiting  with  them.  Fifteen  minutes'  gallop  will  take  us 
to  the  beach,  where  the  boat  is  waiting." 

"  Say,  that  was  some  song  I  taught  you,"  Henry 
grinned.  "  It  sounded  like  the  very  best  little  bit  of 
all  right  when  I  heard  you  whistling  it.  The  dogs  were 
so  previous  they  couldn't  wait  till  to-morrow  to  hang 
me.  They  got  full  of  whiskey  and  decided  to  finish  me 
off  right  away.  Funny  thing  that  whiskey.  An  old 
caballero  turned  peddler  wrecked  a  wagon-load  of  it  right 
in  front  of  the  jail  - 


7  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  For  even  a  noble  Narvaez,  son  of  Baltazar  de  Jesus 
y  Cervellos  e  Narvaez,  son  of  General  Narvaez  of  mar 
tial  memory,  may  be  a  peddler,  and  even  a  peddler  must 
live,  eh,  senors,  is  it  not  so?  "  Francis  mimicked. 

Henry  looked  his  gleeful  recognition,  and  added 
soberly : 

"  Francis,  I'm  glad  for  one  thing,  most  damn 
glad  ..." 

"  Which  is  ?  "  Francis  queried  in  the  pause,  just  as  they 
swung  around  the  corner  to  the  horses. 

"  That  I  didn't  cut  off  your  ears  that  day  on  the  Calf 
when  I  had  you  down  and  you  insisted." 


CHAPTER  VI 

MARIANO  VERCARA  E  HIJOS,  Jefe  Politico  of  San  An 
tonio,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  in  the  courtroom  and  with 
a  quiet  smile  of  satisfaction  proceeded  to  roll  a  cigarette. 
The  case  had  gone  through  as  prearranged.  He  had 
kept  the  little  old  judge  away  from  his  mescal  all  day, 
and  had  been  rewarded  by  having  the  judge  try  the  case 
and  give  judgment  according  to  program.  He  had  not 
made  a  slip.  The  six  peons,  fined  heavily,  were  ordered 
back  to  the  plantation  at  Santos.  The  working  out  of 
the  fines  was  added  to  the  time  of  their  contract  slavery. 
And  the  Jefe  was  two  hundred  dollars  good  American 
gold  richer  for  the  transaction.  Those  Gringos  at  San 
tos,  he  smiled  to  himself,  were  men  to  tie  to.  True, 
they  were  developing  the  country  with  their  henequen 
plantation.  But,  better  than  that,  they  possessed  money 
in  untold  quantity  and  paid  well  for  such  little  services 
as  he  might  be  able  to  render. 

His  smile  was  even  broader  as  he  greeted  Alvarez 
Torres. 

"  Listen,"  said  the  latter,  whispering  low  in  his  ear. 
"  We  can  get  both  these  devils  of  Morgans.  The  Henry 
pig  hangs  to-morrow.  There  is  no  reason  that  the  Fran 
cis  pig  should  not  go  out  to-day." 

The  Jefe  remained  silent,  questioning  with  a  lift  of 
his  eyebrows. 

"  I  have  advised  him  to  storm  the  jail.  The  Solanos 
have  listened  to  his  lies  and  are  with  him.  They  will 
surely  attempt  to  do  it  this  evening.  They  could  not 
do  it  sooner.  It  is  for  you  to  be  ready  for  the  event, 
and  to  see  to  it  that  Francis  Morgan  is  especially  shot 
and  killed  in  the  fight." 

79 


80  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  For  what  and  for  why?  "  the  Jefe  temporized.  "  It 
is  Henry  I  want  to  see  out  of  the  way.  Let  the  Francis 
one  go  back  to  his  beloved  New  York." 

"  He  must  go  out  to-day,  and  for  reasons  you  will  ap 
preciate.  As  you  know,  from  reading  my  telegrams 
through  the  government  wireless  —  " 

"  Which  was  our  agreement  for  my  getting  you  your 
permission  to  use  the  government  station,"  the  Jefe  re 
minded. 

"  And  of  which  I  do  not  complain,"  Torres  assured 
him.  "  But  as  I  was  saying,  you  know  my  relations  with 
the  New  York  Regan  are  confidential  and  important." 
He  touched  his  hand  to  his  breast  pocket.  "  I  have  just 
received  another  wire.  It  is  imperative  that  the  Francis 
pig  be  kept  away  from  New  York  for  a  month —  if  for 
ever,  and  I  do  not  misunderstand  Senor  Regan,  so  much 
the  better.  Insofar  as  I  succeed  in  this,  will  you  fare 
well." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  how  much  you  have  re 
ceived,  nor  how  much  you  will  receive,"  the  Jefe  probed. 

"  It  is  a  private  agreement,  and  it  it  not  so  much  as 
you  may  fancy.  He  is  a  hard  man,  this  Senor  Regan, 
a  hard  man.  Yet  will  I  divide  fairly  with  you  out  of 
the  success  of  our  venture." 

The  Jefe  nodded  acquiscence,  then  said: 

"  Will  it  be  as  much  as  a  thousand  gold  you  will  get?  " 

"  I  think  so.  Surely  the  pig  of  an  Irish  stock-gambler 
could  pay  me  no  less  a  sum,  and  five  hundred  is  yours 
if  pig  Francis  leaves  his  bones  in  San  Antonio." 

"  Will  it  be  as  much  as  a  hundred  thousand  gold  ?  " 
was  the  Jefe's  next  query. 

Torres  laughed  as  if  at  a  joke. 

"  It  must  be  more  than  a  thousand,"  the  other  per 
sisted. 

"  And  he  may  be  generous,"  Torres  responded.     "  He 


HEARTS    OF    THREE    '  8l 

rriay  even  give  me  five  hundred  over  the  thousand,  half 
of  which,  naturally,  as  I  have  said,  will  be  yours  as  well." 

"  I  shall  go  from  here  immediately  to  the  jail,"  the 
Jefe  announced.  "  You  may  trust  me,  Senor  Torres,  as 
I  trust  you.  Come.  We  will  go  at  once,  now,  you  and 
I,  and  you  may  see  for  yourself  the  preparation  I  shall 
make  for  this  Francis  Morgan's  reception.  I  have  not 
yet  lost,  my  cunning  with  a  rifle.  And,  as  well,  I  shall 
tell  off  three  of  the  gendarmes  to  fire  only  at  him.  So 
this  Gringo  dog  would  storm  our  jail,  eh?  Come.  We 
will  depart  at  once." 

He  stood  up,  tossing  his  cigarette  away  with  a  show 
of  determined  energy.  But,  half  way  across  the  room, 
a  ragged  boy,  panting  and  sweating,  plucked  his  sleeve 
and  whined : 

"  I  have  information.  You  will  pay  me  for  it,  most 
high  Senor?  I  have  run  all  the  way." 

"  I'll  have  you  sent  to  San  Juan  for  the  buzzards  to 
peck  your  carcass  for  the  worthless  carrion  that  you 
are,"  was  the  reply. 

The  boy  quailed  at  the  threat,  then  summoned  courage 
from  his  emptiness  of  belly  and  meagerness  of  living  and 
from  his  desire  for  the  price  of  a  ticket  to  the  next  bull 
fight. 

"  You  will  remember  I  brought  you  the  information, 
Senor.  I  ran  all  the  way  until  I  am  almost  dead,  as  you 
can  behold,  Senor.  I  will  tell  you,  but  you  will  remem 
ber  it  was  I  who  ran  all  the  way  and  told  you  first." 

"  Yes,  yes,  animal,  I  will  remember.  But  woe  to  you 
if  I  remember  too  well.  What  is  the  trifling  informa 
tion?  It  may  not  be  worth  a  centavo.  And  if  it  isn't 
I'll  make  you  sorry  the  sun  ever  shone  on  you.  And  buz 
zard-picking  of  you  at  San  Juan  will  be  paradise  with 
what  I  shall  visit  on  you." 

"  The  jail,"  the  boy  quavered.     "  The  strange  Gringo, 


82  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  one  who  was  to  be  hanged  yesterday,  has  blown  down 
the  side  of  the  jail.  Merciful  Saints!  The  hole  is  as 
big  as  the  steeple  of  the  cathedral !  And  the  other 
Gringo,  the  one  who  looks  like  him,  the  one  who  was  to 
hang  to-morrow,  has  escaped  with  him  out  of  the  hole. 
He  dragged  him  out  of  the  hole  himself.  This  I  saw, 
myself,  with  my  two  eyes,  and  then  I  ran  here  to  you 
all  the  way,  and  you  will  remember  .  .  ." 

But  the  Jefe  Politico  had  already  turned  on  Torres 
witheringly. 

"  And  if  this  Sefior  Regan  be  princely  generous,  he 
may  give  you  and  me  the  munificent  sum  that  was  men 
tioned,  eh?  Five  times  the  sum,  or  ten  times,  with  this 
Gringo  tiger  blowing  down  law  and  order  and  our  good 
jail-walls,  would  be  nearer  the  mark." 

"  At  any  rate,  the  thing  must  be  a  false  alarm,  merely 
the  straw  that  shows  which  way  blows  the  wind  of  this 
Francis  Morgan's  intention,"  Torres  murmured  with  a 
sickly  smile.  "  Remember,  the  suggestion  was  mine  to 
him  to  storm  the  jail." 

"  In  which  case  you  and  Sefior  Regan  will  pay  for  the 
good  jail  wall?  "  the  Jefe  demanded,  then,  with  a  pause, 
added :  "  Not  that  I  believe  it  has  been  accomplished. 
It  is  not  possible.  Even  a  fool  Gringo  would  not  dare." 

Rafael,  the  gendarme,  rifle  in  hand,  the  blood  still 
oozing  down  his  face  from  a  scalp-wound,  came  through 
the  courtroom  door  and  shouldered  aside  the  curious  ones 
who  had  begun  to  cluster  around  Torres  and  the  Jefe. 

"  We  are  devastated !  "  were  Rafael's  first  words. 
"  The  jail  is  'most  destroyed.  Dynamite !  A  hundred 
pounds  of  it!  A  thousand!  We  came  bravely  to  save 
the  jail.  But  it  exploded  —  the  thousand  pounds  of 
dynamite.  I  fell  unconscious,  rifle  in  hand.  When  sense 
came  back  to  me,  I  looked  about.  All  others,  the  brave 
Pedro,  the  brave  Ignacio,  the  brave  Augustino  —  all,  all, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  °3 

lay  around  me  dead!"  Almost  could  he  have  added, 
"  drunk " ;  but,  his  Latin- American  nature  so  com 
pounded,  he  sincerely  stated  the  catastrophe  as  it  most 
valiantly  and  tragically  presented  itself  to  his  imagina 
tion.  "  They  lay  dead.  They  may  not  be  dead,  but 
merely  stunned.  I  crawled.  The  cell  of  the  Gringo  Mor 
gan  was  empty.  There  was  a  huge  and  monstrous  hole 
in  the  wall.  I  crawled  through  the  hole  into  the  street. 
There  was  a  great  crowd.  But  the  Gringo  Morgan  was 
gone.  I  talked  with  a  moso  who  had  seen  and  who  knew. 
They  had  horses  waiting.  They  rode  toward  the  beach. 
There  is  a  schooner  that  is  not  anchored.  It  sails  back 
and  forth  waiting  for  them.  The  Francis  Morgan  rides 
with  a  sack  of  gold  on  his  saddle.  The  moso  saw  it.  It 
is  a  large  sack/' 

"  And  the  hole?  "\the  Jefe  demanded.  "  The  hole  in 
the  wall?" 

"  Is  larger  than  the  sack,  much  larger,"  was  Rafael's 
reply.  "  But  the  sack  is  large.  So  the  moso  said.  And 
he  rides  with  it  on  his  saddle." 

"  My  jail !  "  the  Jefe  cried.  He  slipped  a  dagger  from 
inside  his  coat  under  the  left  arm-pit  and  held  it  aloft 
by  the  blade  so  that  the  hilt  showed  as  a  true  cross  on 
which  a  finely  modeled  Christ  hung  crucified.  "  I  swear 
by  all  the  Saints  the  vengeance  I  shall  have.  My  iail! 
Our  justice!  Our  law!  —  Horses!  Horses!  Gen 
darme,  horses!"  He  whirled  about  upon  Torres  as  if 
the  latter  had  spoken,  shouting:  "To  hell  with  Senor 
Regan  !  I  am  after  my  own !  I  have  been  defied  !  My 
jail  is  desolated !  My  law  —  our  law,  good  friends  — 
has  been  mocked.  Horses !  Horses !  Commandeer 
them  on  the  streets.  Haste !  Haste !  " 

Captain  Trefethen,  owner  of  the  Angelique,  son  of  a 
Maya  Indian  mother  and  a  Jamaica  negro  father,  paced 


84  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  narrow  after-deck  of  his  schooner,  stared  shoreward 
toward  San  Antonio  where  he  could  make  out  his 
crowded  long-boat  returning,  and  meditated  flight  from 
his  mad  American  charterer.  At  the  same  time  he  med 
itated  remaining  in  order  to  break  his  charter  and  give  a 
new  one  at  three  times  the  price;  for  he  was  strangely 
torn  by  his  conflicting  bloods.  The  negro  portion  coun 
seled  prudence  and  observance  of  Panamanian  law.  The 
Indian  portion  was  urgent  to  unlawfulness  and  the  prom 
ise  of  conflict. 

It  was  the  Indian  mother  who  decided  the  issue  and 
made  him  draw  his  jib,  ease  his  mainsheet,  and  begin  to 
reach  in-shore  the  quicker  to  pick  up  the  oncoming  boat. 
When  he  made  out  the  rifles  carried  by  the  Solanos  and 
the  Morgans,  almost  he  put  up  his  helm  to  run  for  it 
and  leave  them.  When  he  made  out  a  woman  in  the 
boat's  sternsheets,  romance  and  thrift  whispered  in  him 
to  hang  on  and  take  the  boat  on  board.  For  he  knew 
wherever  woman  entered  into  the  transactions  of  men 
that  peril  and  pelf  as  well  entered  hand  in  hand. 

And  aboard  came  the  woman,  the  peril  and  the  pelf  — 
Leoncia,  the  rifles,  and  a  sack  of  money  —  all  in  a 
scramble;  for,  the  wind  being  light,  the  captain  had  not 
bothered  to  stop  way  on  the  schooner. 

"  Glad  to  welcome  you  on  board,  sir,"  Captain  Trefe- 
then  greeted  Francis  with  a  white  slash  of  teeth  between 
his  smiling  lips.  "  But  who  is  this  man?  "  He  nodded 
his  head  to  indicate  Henry. 

"  A  friend,  captain,  a  guest  of  mine ;  in  fact,  a  kins 
man." 

"  And  who,  sir,  may  I  make  bold  to  ask,  are  those 
gentlemen  riding  along  the  beach  in  fashion  so  lively  ?  " 

Henry  looked  quickly  at  the  group  of  horsemen  gal 
loping  along  the  sand,  unceremoniously  took  the  binocu 
lars  from  the  skipper's  hand,  and  gazed  through  them. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  85 

"  It's  the  Jefe  himself  in  the  lead,"  he  reported  to 
Leoncia  and  her  menfolk,  "  with  a  bunch  of  gendarmes." 
He  uttered  a  sharp  exclamation,  stared  through  the 
glasses  intently,  then  shook  his  head.  "  Almost  I  thought 
I  made  out  our  friend  Torres." 

"  With  our  enemies !  "  Leoncia  cried  incredulously, 
remembering  Torres'  proposal  pf  marriage  and  proffer  of 
service  and  honor  that  very  day  on  the  hacienda  piazza. 
"  I  must  have  been  mistaken,"  Francis  acknowledged. 
"  They  are  riding  so  bunched  together.  But  it's  the  Jefe 
all  right,  two  jumps  ahead  of  the  outfit." 

"Who  is  this  Torres  duck?"  Henry  asked  harshly. 
"  I've  never  liked  his  looks  from  the  first,  yet  he  seems 
always  welcome  under  your  roof,  Leoncia." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  most  gratifiedly,  and  with  my 
humilious  respects,"  Captain  Trefethen,  interrupted 
suavely.  "  But  I  must  call  your  attention  to  the  pre 
vious  question,  sir,  which  is :  who  and  what  is  that  cav 
alcade  disporting  itself  with  such  earnestness  along  the 
sand?" 

"  They  tried  to  hang  me  yesterday,"  Francis  laughed. 
"  And  to-morrow  they  were  going  to  hang  my  kinsman 
there.  Only  we  beat  them  to  it.  And  here  we  are. 
Now,  Mr.  Skipper,  I  call  your  attention  to  your  head- 
sheets  flapping  in  the  wind.  You  are  standing  still. 
How  much  longer  do  you  expect  to  stick  around  here?  " 

"  Mr.  Morgan,  sir,"  came  the  answer,  "  it  is  with 
dumbfounded  respect  that  I  serve  you  as  the  charterer  of 
my  vessel.  Nevertheless,  I  must  inform  you  that  I  am 
a  British  subject.  King  George  is  my  king,  sir,  and  I 
owe  obedience  first  of  all  to  him  and  to  his  laws  of 
maritime  between  all  nations,  sir.  It  is  lucid  to,  my  com 
prehension  that  you  have  broken  laws  ashore,  or  else 
the  officers  ashore  would  not  be  so  assiduously  in  quest  of 
you,  sir.  And  it  is  also  lucid  to  clarification  that  it  is 


86  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

now  your  wish  to  have  me  break  the  laws  of  maritime 
by  enabling  you  to  escape.  So,  in  honor  bound,  I  must 
stick  around  here  until  this  little  difficulty  that  you  may 
have  appertained  ashore  is  adjusted  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all  parties  concerned,  sir,  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  my 
lawful  sovereign." 

"  Fill  away  and  get  out  of  this,  skipper !  "  Henry  broke 
in  angrily. 

"  Sir,  assuring  you  of  your  gratification  of  pardon,  it 
is  my  unpleasant  task  to  inform  you  of  two  things. 
Neither  are  you  my  charterer;  nor  are  you  the  noble 
King  George  to  whom  I  give  ambitious  allegiance." 

"  Well,  I'm  your  charterer,  skipper,"  Francis  said 
pleasantly,  for  he  had  learned  to  humor  the  man  of 
mixed  words  and  parentage.  "  So  just  kindly  put  up 
your  helm  and  sail  us  out  of  this  Chiriqui  Lagoon  as 
fast  as  God  and  this  failing  wind  will  let  you." 

"  It  is  not  in  the  charter,  sir,  that  my  Angelique  shall 
break  the  laws  of  Panama  and  King  George." 

"  I'll  pay  you  well,"  Francis  retorted,  beginning  to  lose 
his  temper.  "  Get  busy." 

"  You  will  then  recharter,  sir,  at  three  times  the  pres 
ent  charter?  " 

Francis  nodded  shortly. 

"  Then  wait,  sir,  I  entreat.  I  must  procure  pen  and 
paper  from  the  cabin  and  make  out  the  document." 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  Francis  groaned.  "  Square  away  and 
get  a  move  on  first.  We  can  make  out  the  paper  just  as 
easily  while  we  are  running  as  standing  still.  Look! 
They  are  beginning  to  fire." 

The  half-breed  captain  heard  the  report,  and,  search 
ing  his  spread  canvas,  discovered  the  hole  of  the  bullet 
high  up  near  the  peak  of  the  mainsail. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  he  conceded.  "  You  are  a  gentle 
man  and  an  honorable  man.  I  trust  you  to  affix  your 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  87 

signature  to  the  document  at  your  early  convenience  - 
Hey,    you    nigger !     Put    up    your    wheel !     Hard    up ! 
Jump,   you    black    rascals,    and    slack    away   mainsheet ! 
Take  a  hand  there,  you,  Percival,  on  the  boom-tackle !  " 

All  obeyed,  as  did  Percival,  a  grinning  shambling 
Kingston  negro  who  was  as  black  as  his  name  was  white, 
and  as  did  another,  addressed  more  respectfully  as  Juan, 
who  was  more  Spanish  and  Indian  than  negro,  as  his 
light  yellow  skin  attested,  and  whose  fingers,  slacking  the 
foresheet,  were  as  slim  and  delicate  as  a  girl's. 

"  Knock  the  nigger  on  the  head  if  he  keeps  up  this 
freshness,"  Henry  growled  in  an  undertone  to  Francis. 
"  For  two  cents  I'll  do  it  right  now." 

But  Francis  shook  his  head. 

"  He's  all  right,  but  he's  a  Jamaica  nigger,  and  you 
know  what  they  are.  And  he's  Indian  as  well.  We 
might  as  well  humor  him,  since  it's  the  nature  of  the 
beast.  He  means  all  right,  but  he  wants  the  money,  he's 
risking  his  schooner  against  confiscation,  and  he's  afflicted 
with  vocdbidaritis.  He  just  must  get  those  long  words 
out  of  his  system  or  else  bust." 

Here  Enrico  Solano,  with  quivering  nostrils  and  fin 
gers  restless  on  his  rifle  as  with  half  an  eye  he  kept  track 
of  the  wild  shots  being  fired  from  the  beach,  approached 
Henry  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  have  been  guilty  of  a  grave  mistake,  Sefior  Mor 
gan,"  he  said.  "  In  the  first  hurt  of  my  affliction  at  the 
death  of  my  beloved  brother,  Alfaro,  I  was  guilty  of 
thinking  you  guilty  of  his  murder."  Here  old  Enrico's 
eyes  flashed  with  anger  consuming  but  unconsumable. 
"  For  murder  it  was,  dastardly  and  cowardly,  a  thrust  in 
the  dark  in  the  back.  I  should  have  known  better  But 
I  was  overwhelmed,  and  the  evidence  was  all  against  you. 
I  did  not  take  pause  of  thought  to  consider  that  my 
dearly  beloved  and  only  daughter  was  betrothed  to  you; 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

to  remember  that  all  I  had  known  of  you  was  straight- 
ness  and  man-likeness  and  courage  such  as  never  stabs 
from  behind  the  shield  of  the  dark.  I  regret.  I  am 
sorry.  And  I  am  proud  once  again  to  welcome  you  into 
my  family  as  the  husband-to-be  of  my  Leoncia." 

And  while  this  whole-hearted  restoration  of  Henry 
Morgan  into  the  Solano  family  went  on,  Leoncia  was  irri 
tated  because  her  father,  in  Latin-American  fashion, 
must  use  so  many  fine  words  and  phrases,  when  a  single 
phrase,  a  hand-grip,  and  a  square  look  in  the  eyes  were 
all  that  was  called  for  and  was  certainly  all  that  either 
Henry  or  Francis  would  have  vouchsafed  had  the  situa 
tion  been  reversed.  Why,  why,  she  asked  herself,  must 
her  Spanish  stock,  in  such  extravagance  of  diction,  seem 
to  emulate  the  similar  extravagance  of  the  Jamaica 
negro  ? 

While  this  reiteration  of  the  betrothal  of  Henry  and 
Leoncia  was  taking  place,  Francis,  striving  to  appear  un 
interested,  could  not  help  taking  note  of  the  pale-yellow 
sailor  called  Juan,  conferring  for'ards  with  others  of  the 
crew,  shrugging  his  shoulders  significantly,  gesticulating 
passionately  with  his  hands. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  AND  now  we've  lost  both  the  Gringo  pigs,"  Alvarez 
Torres  lamented  on  the  beach  as,  with  a  slight  freshening 
of  the  breeze  and  with  booms  winged  out  to  port  and 
starboard,  the  Ang clique  passed  out  of  range  of  their 
rifles. 

"  Almost  would  I  give  three  bells  to  the  cathedral," 
Mariano  Veraca  e  Hijos  proclaimed,  "  to  have  them 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  this  rifle.  And  if  I  had  will 
of  all  Gringos  they  would  depart  so  fast  that  the  devil 
in  hell  would  be  compelled  to  study  English." 

Alvarez  Torres  beat  the  saddle  pommel  with  his  hand 
in  sheer  impotence  of  rage  and  disappointment. 

"  The  Queen  of  my  Dreams !  "  he  almost  wept.  "  She 
is  gone  and  away,  off  with  the  two  Morgans,  I  saw  her 
climb  up  the  side  of  the  schooner.  And  there  is  the  New 
York  Regan.  Once  out  of  Chiriqui  Lagoon,  the 
schooner  may  sail  directly  to  New  York.  And  the  Fran 
cis  pig  will  not  have  been  delayed  a  month,  and  the  Senor 
Regan  will  remit  no  money." 

"  They  will  not  get  out  of  Chiriqui  Lagoon,"  the  Jefe 
said  solemnly.  "  I  am  no  animal  without  reason.  I  am 
a  man.  I  know  they  will  not  get  out.  Have  I  not  sworn 
eternal  vengeance?  The  sun  is  setting,  and  the  promise 
is  for  a  night  of  little  wind.  The  sky  tells  it  to  one  with 
half  an  eye.  Behold  those  trailing  wisps  of  clouds. 
What  wind  may  be,  and  little  enough  of  that,  will  come 
from  the  northeast.  It  will  be  a  head  beat  to  the  Chor- 
rera  Passage.  They  will  not  attempt  it.  That  nigger 
captain  knows  the  lagoon  like  a  book.  He  will  try  to 

89 


90  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

make  the  long  tack  and  go  out  past  Bocas  del  Toro,  or 
through  the  Cartago  Passage.  Even  so,  we  will  outwit 
him.  I  have  brains,  reason.  Listen.  It  is  a  long  ride. 
We  will  make  it  —  straight  down  the  coast  to  Las 
Palmas.  Captain  Rosaro  is  there  with  the  Dolores/' 

"  The  second-hand  old  tugboat  ?  —  that  cannot  get  out 
of  her  own  way?  "  Torres  queried. 

"  But  this  night  of  calm  and  morrow  of  calm  she  will 
capture  the  Angelique"  the  Jefe  replied.  "  On  com 
rades  !  We  will  ride !  Captain  Rosaro  is  my  friend. 
Any  favor  is  but  mine  to  ask." 

At  daylight,  the  worn-out  men,  on  beaten  horses,  strag 
gled  through  the  decaying  village  of  Las  Palmas  and 
down  to  the  decaying  pier,  where  a  very  decayed-looking 
tugboat,  sadly  in  need  of  paint,  welcomed  their  eyes. 
Smoke  rising  from  the  stack  advertised  that  steam  was 
up,  and  the  Jefe  was  wearily  elated. 

"  A  happy  morning,  Senor  Capitan  Rosara,  and  well 
met,"  he  greeted  the  hard-bitten  Spanish  skipper,  who 
was  reclined  on  a  coil  of  rope  and  who  sipped  black 
coffee  from  a  mug  that  rattled  against  his  teeth. 

"  It  would  be  a  happier  morning  if  the  cursed  fever 
had  not  laid  its  chill  upon  me,"  Captain  Rosaro  grunted 
sourly,  the  hand  that  held  the  mug,  the  arm,  and  all  his 
body  shivering  so  violently  as  to  spill  the  hot  liquid 
down  his  chin  and  into  the  black-and-gray  thatch  of 
hair  that  covered  his  half  exposed  chest.  "  Take  that, 
you  animal  of  hell !  "  he  cried,  flinging  mug  and  contents 
at  a  splinter  of  a  half-breed  boy,  evidently  his  servant, 
who  had  been  unable  to  repress  his  glee. 

"  But  the  sun  will  rise  and  the  fever  will  work  its 
will  and  shortly  depart,"  said  the  Jefe,  politely  ignoring 
the  display  of  spleen.  "  And  you  are  finished  here,  and 
you  are  bound  for  Bocas  del  Toro,  and  we  shall  go  with 
you,  all  of  us,  on  a  rare  adventure.  We  will  pick  up  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  91 

schooner  Angelique,  calm-bound  all  last  night  in  the 
lagoon,  and  I  shall  make  many  arrests  and  all  Panama 
will  so  ring  with  your  courage  and  ability,  Capitan,  that 
you  will  forget  that  the  fever  ever  whispered  in  you." 

"  How  much  ?  "     Capitan  Rosaro  demanded  bluntly. 

"Much?"  the  Jefe  countered  in  surprise.  'This  is 
an  affair  of  government,  good  friend.  And  it  is  right  on 
your  way  to  Bocas  del  Toro.  It  will  not  cost  you  an 
extra  shovelful  of  coal." 

"  Mitchacho!  More  coffee!"  the  tug-skipper  roared 
at  the  boy. 

A  pause  fell,  wherein  Torres  and  the  Jefe  and  all  the 
draggled  following  yearned  for  the  piping  hot  coffee 
brought  by  the  boy.  Captain  Rosaro  played  the  rim  of 
the  mug  against  his  teeth  like  a  rattling  of  castanets,  but 
managed  to  sip  without  spilling  and  so  to  burn  his  mouth. 

A  vacant-faced  Swede,  in  filthy  overalls,  with  a  soiled 
cap  on  which  appeared  "  Engineer,"  came  up  from  below, 
lighted  a  pipe,  and  seemingly  went  into  a  trance  as  he 
sat  on  the  tug's  low  rail. 

"  How   much  ?  "    Captain   Rosaro   repeated. 

"  Let  us  get  under  way,  dear  friend,"  said  the  Jefe. 
"  And  then,  when  the  fever-shock  has  departed,  we  will 
discuss  the  matter  with  reason,  being  reasonable  creatures 
ourselves  and  not  animals." 

"  How  much  ?  "  Captain  Rosaro  repeated  again.  "  I 
am  never  an  animal.  I  always  am  a  creature  of  reason, 
whether  the  sun  is  up  or  not  up,  or  whether  this  thrice- 
accursed  fever  is  upon  me.  How  much?" 

"Well,  let  us  start,  and  for  how  much?"  the  Jefe 
conceded  wearily. 

"  Fifty  dollars  gold,"  was  the  prompt  answer. 

"  You  are  starting  anyway,  are  you  not,  Capitan  ?  " 
Torres  queried  softly. 

"  Fifty —  gold,  as  I  have  said." 


92  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

The  Jefe  Politico  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  hopeless 
gesture  and  turned  on  his  heel  to  depart. 

'  Yet  you  swore  eternal  vengeance  for  the  crime  com 
mitted  on  your  jail,"  Torres  reminded  him. 

'  "  But  not  if  it  costs  fifty  dollars,"  the  Jefe  snapped 
back,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  watching  the  shivering 
captain  for  some  sign  of  relenting. 

"  Fifty  gold,"  said  the  Captain,  as  he  finished  draining 
the  mug  and  with  shaking  fingers  strove  to  roll  a  cigarette. 
He  nodded  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  Swede,  and 
added,  "  and  five  gold  extra  for  my  engineer.  It  is  our 
custom." 

Torres  stepped  closer  to  the  Jefe  and  whispered : 

"  I  will  pay  for  the  tug  myself  and  charge  the  Gringo 
Regan  a  hundred,  and  you  and  I  will  divide  the  difference. 
We  lose  nothing.  We  shall  make.  For  this  Regan  pig 
instructed  me  well  not  to  mind  expense." 

As  the  sun  slipped  brazenly  above  the  eastern  horizon, 
one  gendarme  went  back  into  Las  Palmas  with  the  jaded 
horses,  the  rest  of  the  party  descended  to  the  deck  of  the 
tug,  the  Swede  dived  down  into  the  engine-room,  and 
Captain  Rosaro,  shaking  off  his  chill  in  the  sun's  benefi 
cent  rays,  ordered  the  deck-hands  to  cast  off  the  lines, 
and  put  one  of  them  at  the  wheel  in  the  pilot-house. 

And  the  same  day-dawn  found  the  Angelique,  after  a 
night  of  almost  perfect  calm,  off  the  mainland  from 
which  she  had  failed  to  get  away,  although  she  had  made 
sufficient  northing  to  be  midway  between  San  Antonio 
and  the  passages  of  Bocas  del  Toro  and  Cartago.  These 
two  passages  to  the  open  sea  still  lay  twenty-five  miles 
away,  and  the  schooner  truly  slept  on  the  mirror  surface 
of  the  placid  lagoon.  Too  stuffy  below  for  sleep  in  the 
steaming  tropics,  the  deck  was  littered  with  the  sleepers. 
On  top  the  small  house  of  the  cabin,  in  solitary  state, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  93 

lay  Leoncia.  On  the  narrow  runways  of  deck  on  either 
side  lay  her  brothers  and  her  father.  Aft,  between 
the  cabin  companionway  and  the  wheel,  side  by  side, 
Francis'  arm  across  Henry's  shoulder  as  if  still  protecting 
him,  were  the  two  Morgans.  On  one  side  the  wheel, 
sitting  with  arms  on  knees  and  head  on  arms,  the  negro- 
Indian  skipper  slept,  and  just  as  precisely  postured  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wheel,  slept  the  helmsman  who  was  none 
other  than  Percival,  the  black  Kingston  negro.  The 
waist  of  the  schooner  was  strewn  with  the  bodies  of  the 
mixed-breed  seamen,  while  for'ard,  on  the  tiny  forecastle- 
head,  prone,  his  face  buried  upon  his  folded  arms,  slept 
the  lookout. 

Leoncia,  in  her  high  place  on  the  cabin-top,  awoke 
first.  Propping  her  head  on  her  hand,  the  elbow  rest 
ing  on  a  bit  of  the  poncho  on  which  she  lay,  she  looked 
down  past  one  side  of  the  hood  of  the  companionway 
upon  the  two  young  men.  She  yearned  over  them,  who 
were  so  alike,  and  knew  love  for  both  of  them,  remem 
bered  the  kisses  of  Henry  on  her  mouth,  thrilled  till  the 
blush  of  her  own  thoughts  mantled  her  cheek  at  memory 
of  the  kisses  of  Francis,  and  was  puzzled  and  amazed 
that  she  should  have  it  in  her  to  love  two  men  at  the  one 
time.  As  she  had  already  learned  of  herself,  she  would 
follow  Henry  to  the  end  of  the  world  and  Francis  even 
farther.  And  she  could  not  understand  such  wantonness 
of  inclination. 

Fleeing  from  her  own  thoughts  which  frightened  her, 
she  stretched  out  her  arm,  and  dangled  the  end  of  her 
silken  scarf  to  a  tickling  of  Francis'  nose,  who,  after  rest 
less  movements,  still  in  the  heaviness  of  sleep,  struck  with 
his  hand  at  what  he  must  have  thought  to  be  a  mosquito 
or  a  fly,  and  hit  Henry  on  the  chest.  So  it  was  Henry 
who  was  first  awakened.  He  sat  up  with  such  abrupt 
ness  as  to  awaken  Francis. 


94  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  Good  morning,  merry  kinsman,"  Francis  greeted. 
"  Why  such  violence  ?  " 

"  Morning,  morning,  and  the  morning's  morning,  com 
rade,"  Henry  muttered.  "  Such  was  the  violence  of  your 
sleep  that  it  was  you  who  awakened  me  with  a  buffet  on 
my  breast.  I  thought  it  was  the  hangman,  for  this  is 
the  morning  they  planned  to  kink  my  neck."  He 
yawned,  stretched  his  arms,  gazed  out  over  the  rail  at  the 
sleeping  sea,  and  nudged  Francis  to  observance  of  the 
sleeping  skipper  and  helmsman. 

They  looked  so  bonny,  the  pair  of  Morgans,  Leoncia 
thought;  and  at  the  same  time  wondered  why  the  Eng 
lish  word  had  arisen  unsummoned  in  her  mind  rather 
than  a  Spanish  equivalent.  Was  it  because  her  heart 
went  out  so  generously  to  the  two  Gringos  that  she  must 
needs  think  of  them  in  their  language  instead  of  her 
own? 

To  escape  the  perplexity  of  her  thoughts,  she  dangled 
the  scarf  again,  was  discovered,  and  laughingly  confessed 
that  it  was  she  who  had  caused  their  violence  of  waking. 

Three  hours  later,  breakfast  of  coffee  and  fruit  over, 
she  found  herself  at  the  wheel  taking  her  first  lesson  of 
steering  and  of  the  compass  under  Francis'  tuition.  The 
Angelique,  under  a  crisp  little  breeze  which  had  hauled 
around  well  to  north'ard,  was  for  the  moment  heeling  it 
through  the  water  at  a  six-knot  clip.  Henry,  swaying  on 
the  weather  side  of  the  afterdeck  and  searching  the  sea 
through  the  binoculars,  was  striving  to  be  all  unconcerned 
at  the  lesson,  although  secretly  he  was  mutinous  with 
himself  for  not  having  first  thought  of  himself  introduc 
ing  her  to  the  binnacle  and  the  wheel.  Yet  he  resolutely 
refrained  from  looking  around  or  from  even  stealing  a 
corner-of-the-eye  glance  at  the  other  two. 

But  Captain  Trefethen,  with  the  keen  cruelty  of  Indian 
curiosity  and  the  impudence  of  a  negro  subject  of  King 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  95 

George,  knew  no  such  delicacy.  He  stared  openly  and 
missed  nothing  of  the  chemic  drawing  together  of  his 
charterer  and  the  pretty  Spanish  girl.  When  they  leaned 
over  the  wheel  to  look  into  the  binnacle,  they  leaned 
toward  each  other  and  Leoncia's  hair  touched  Francis' 
cheek.  And  the  three  of  them,  themselves  and  the  breed 
skipper,  knew  the  thrill  induced  by  such  contact.  But 
the  man  and  woman  knew  immediately  what  the  breed 
skipper  did  not  know,  and  what  they  knew  was  embar 
rassment.  Their  eyes  lifted  to  each  other  in  a  flash  of 
mutual  startlement,  and  drooped  away  and  down  guiltily. 
Francis  talked  very  fast  and  loud  enough  for  half  the 
schooner  to  hear,  as  he  explained  the  lubber's  point  of 
the  compass.  But  Captain  Trefethen  grinned. 

A  rising  puff  of  breeze  made  Francis  put  the  wheel  up. 
His  hand  to  the  spoke  rested  on  her  hand  already  upon 
it.  Again  they  thrilled,  and  again  the  skipper  grinned. 

Leoncia's  eyes  lifted  to  Francis',  then  dropped  in  con 
fusion.  She  slipped  her  hand  out  from  under  and  ter 
minated  the  lesson  by  walking  slowly  away  with  a  fine 
assumption  of  casualness,  as  if  the  wheel  and  the  binnacle 
no  longer  interested  her.  But  she  had  left  Francis  afire 
with  what  he  knew  was  lawlessness  and  treason  as  he 
glanced  at  Henry's  shoulder  and  profile  and  hoped  he  had 
not  seen  what  had  occurred.  Leoncia,  apparently  gazing 
off  across  the  lagoon  to  the  jungle-clad  shore,  was  seeing 
nothing  as  she  thoughtfully  turned  her  engagement  ring 
around  and  around  on  her  finger. 

But  Henry,  turning  to  tell  them  of  the  smudge  of 
smoke  he  had  discovered  on  the  horizon,  had  inadver 
tently  seen.  And  the  negro-Indian  captain  had  seen  him 
see.  So  the  captain  lurched  close  to  him,  the  cruelty  of 
the  Indian  dictating  the  impudence  of  the  negro,  as  he 
said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Ah,  be  not  downcast,  sir.     The  senorita  is  generously 


96  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

hearted.  There  is  room  for  both  you  gallant  gentlemen 
in  her  heart." 

And  the  next  fraction  of  a  second  he  learned  the  inevi 
table  and  invariable  lesson  that  white  men  must  have  their 
privacy  of  intimate  things;  for  he  lay  on  his  back,  the 
back  of  his  head  sore  from  contact  with  the  deck,  the 
front  of  his  head,  between  the  eyes,  sore  from  contact 
with  the  knuckles  of  Henry  Morgan's  right  hand. 

But  the  Indian  in  the  skipper  was  up  and  raging  as  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  knife  in  hand.  Juan,  the  pale-yellow 
mixed  breed,  leaped  to  the  side  of  his  skipper  flourishing 
another  knife,  while  several  of  the  nearer  sailors  joined 
in  forming  a  semi-circle  of  attack  on  Henry,  who,  with 
a  quick  step  back  and  an  upward  slap  of  his  hand,  under 
the  pin-rail,  caused  an  iron  belaying  pin  to  leap  out  and 
up  into  the  air.  Catching  it  in  mid-flight,  he  was  pre 
pared  to  defend  himself.  Francis,  abandoning  the  wheel 
and  drawing  his  automatic  as  he  sprang,  was  through  the 
circle  and  by  the  side  of  Henry. 

"What  did  he  say?"  Francis  demanded  of  his  kins 
man. 

"  I'll  say  what  I  said,"  the  breed  skipper  threatened, 
the  negro  side  of  him  dominant  as  he  built  for  a  com 
promise  of  blackmail.  "  I  said  —  " 

"  Hold  on,  skipper !  "  Henry  interrupted.  "  I'm  sorry 
I  struck  you.  Hold  your  hush.  Put  a  stopper  on  your 
jaw.  Saw  wood.  Forget.  I'm  sorry  I  struck  you.  I 
..."  Henry  Morgan  could  not  help  the  pause  in  speech 
during  which  .he  swallowed  his  gorge  rising  at  what  he 
was  about  to  say.  And  it  was  because  of  Leoncia,  and 
because  she  was  looking  on  and  listening,  that  he  said  it. 
"I  —  I  apologize,  skipper." 

"  It  is  an  injury,"  Captain  Trefethen  stated  aggriev- 
edly.  "  It  is  a  physical  damage.  No  man  can  perpe 
trate  a  physical  damage  on  a  subject  of  King  George's, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  97 

God  bless  him,   without   furnishing  a  money  requital. " 

At  this  crass  statement  of  the  terms  of  the  blackmail, 
Henry  was  for  forgetting  himself  and  for  leaping  upon 
the  creature.  But,  restrained  by  Francis'  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  he  struggled  to  self-control,  made  a  noise  like 
hearty  laughter,  dipped  into  his  pocket  for  two  ten-dollar 
gold-pieces,  and,  as  if  they  stung  him,  thrust  them  into 
Captain  Trefethen's  palm. 

"  Cheap  at  the  price,"  he  could  not  help  muttering 
aloud. 

"  It  is  a  good  price,"  the  skipper  averred.  *  Twenty 
gold  is  always  a  good  price  for  a  sore  head.  I  am  yours 
to  command,  sir.  You  are  a  sure-enough  gentleman. 
You  may  hit  me  any  time  for  the  price." 

"  Me,  sir,  me !  "  the  Kingston  black  named  Percival 
volunteered  with  broad  and  prideless  chucklings  of  sub 
servience.  "  Take  a  swat  at  me,  sir,  for  the  same  price, 
any  time,  now.  And  you  may  swat  me  as  often  as  you 
please  to  pay  - 

But  the  episode  was  destined  to  terminate  at  that  in 
stant,  for  at  that  instant  a  sailor  called  from  amidships : 

"  Smoke!     A  steamer-smoke  dead  aft!  " 

The  passage  of  an  hour  determined  the  nature  and 
import  of  the  smoke,  for  the  Angelique,  falling  into  a 
calm,  was  overhauled  with  such  rapidity  that  the  tug 
boat  Dolores,  at  half  a  mile  distance  through  the  binocu 
lars,  was  seen  fairly  to  bristle  with  armed  men  crowded 
on  her  tiny  forward  deck.  Both  Henry  and  Francis 
could  recognize  the  faces  of  the  Jefe  Politico  and  of  sev 
eral  of  the  gendarmes. 

Old  Enrico  Solana's  nostrils  began  to  dilate,  as,  with 
his  four  sons  who  were  aboard,  he  stationed  them  aft 
with  him  and  prepared  for  the  battle.  Leoncia,  divided 
between  Henry  and  Francis,  was  secretly  distracted, 
though  outwardly  she  joined  in  laughter  at  the  unkempt- 


98 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 


ness  of  the  little  tug,  and  in  glee  at  a  flaw  of  wind  that 
tilted  the  Angeliquc's  port  rail  flush  to  the  water  and 
foamed  her  along  at  a  nine-knot  clip. 

But  weather  and  wind  were  erratic.  The  face  of  the 
lagoon  was  vexed  with  squalls  and  alternate  streaks  of 
calm. 

"  We  cannot  escape,  sir,  I  regret  to  inform  you," 
Captain  Trefethen  informed  Francis.  "If  the  wind 
would  hold,  sir,  yes.  But  the  wind  baffles  and  breaks. 
We  are  crowded  down  upon  the  mainland.  We  are  cor 
nered,  sir,  and  as  good  as  captured." 

Henry,  who  had  been  studying  the  near  shore  through 
the  glasses,  lowered  them  and  looked  at  Francis. 

"  Shout !  "  cried  the  latter.  "  You  have  a  scheme. 
It's  sticking  out  all  over  you.  Name  it." 

"  Right  there  are  the  two  Tigrcs  islands,"  Henry  elu 
cidated.  "  They  guard  the  narrow  entrance  to  Juchitan 
Inlet,  which  is  called  El  Tigre.  Oh,  it  has  the  teeth  of 
a  tiger,  believe  me.  On  either  side  of  them,  between 
them  and  the  shore,  it  is  too  shoal  to  float  a  whale-boat 
unless  you  know  the  winding  channels,  which  I  do  know. 
But  between  them  is  deep  water,  though  the  El  Tigre 
Passage  is  so  pinched  that  there  is  no  room  to  come 
about.  A  schooner  can  only  run  it  with  the  wind  abaft 
or  abeam.  Now,  the  wind  favors.  We  will  run  it. 
Which  is  only  half  my  scheme  —  " 

"  And  if  the  wind  baffles  or  fails,  sir  —  and  the  tide  of 
the  inlet  runs  out  and  in  like  a  race,  as  I  well  know  — 
my  beautiful  schooner  will  go  on  the  rocks,"  Captain 
Trefethen  protested. 

"  For  which,  if  it  happens,  I  will  pay  you  full  value," 
Francis  assured  him  shortly  and  brushed  him  aside. 
"  —  And  now,  Henry,  what's  the  other  half  of  your 
scheme?" 

"  I'm  ashamed  to  tell  you,"  Henry  laughed.     "  But  it 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  99 

will  be  provocative  of  more  Spanish  swearing  than  has 
been  heard  in  Chiriqui  Lagoon  since  old  Sir  Henry  sacked 
San  Antonio  and  Bocas  del  Toro.  You  just  watch." 

Leoncia  clapped  her  hands,  as  with  sparkling  eyes  she 
cried  : 

"  It  must  be  good,  Henry.  I  can  see  it  by  your  face. 
You  must  tell  me." 

—  And,  aside,  his  arm  around  her  to  steady  her  on  the 
reeling  deck,  Henry  whispered  closely  in  her  ear,  while 
Francis,  to  hide  his  perturbation  at  the  sight  of  them, 
made  shift  through  the  binoculars  tcf  study  the  faces  on 
the  pursuing  tug.  Captain  Trefethen  grinned  mali 
ciously  and  exchanged  significant  glances  with  the  pale- 
yellow  sailor. 

"  Now,  skipper,"  said  Henry,  returning.  "  We're  just 
opposite  El  Tigre.  Put  up  your  helm  and  run  for  the 
passage.  Also,  and  pronto,  I  want  a  coil  of  half-inch, 
old,  soft,  manila  rope,  plenty  of  rope-yarns  and  sail  twine, 
that  case  of  beer  from  the  lazarette,  that  five-gallon  kero 
sene  can  that  was  emptied  last  night,  and  the  coffee-pot 
from  the  galley." 

"  But  I  am  distrained  to  remark  to  your  attention  that 
that  rope  is  worth  good  money,  sir,"  Captain  Trefethen 
complained,  as  Henry  set  to  work  on  the  heterogeneous 
gear. 

"  You  will  be  paid,"  Francis  hushed  him. 

"  And  the  coffee-pot  —  it  is  almost  new." 

"  You  will  be  paid." 

The  skipper  sighed  and  surrendered,  although  he 
sighed  again  at  Henry's  next  act,  which  was  to  uncork 
the  bottles  and  begin  emptying  the  beer  out  into  the 
scuppers. 

"  Please,  sir,"  begged  Percival.  "  If  you  must  empty 
the  beer  please  empty  it  into  me." 

No  further  beer  was  wasted,  and  the  crew  swiftly  laid 


100  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  empty  bottles  beside  Henry.  At  intervals  of  six 
feet  he  fastened  the  recorked  bottles  to  the  half -inch 
line.  Also,  he  cut  off  two-fathom  lengths  of  the  line 
and  attached  them  like  streamers  between  the  beer  bot 
tles.  The  coffee-pot  and  two  empty  coffee  tins  were 
likewise  added  among  the  bottles.  To  one  end  of  the 
main-line  he  made  fast  the  kerosene  can,  to  the  other 
end  the  empty  beer-case,  and  looked  up  to  Francis,  who 
replied : 

"  Oh,  I  got  you  five  minutes  ago.  El  Tigre  must  be 
narrow,  or  else  the  tug  will  go  around  that  stuff." 

"  El  Tigre  is  just  that  narrow,"  was  the  response. 
"  There's  one  place  where  the  channel  isn't  forty  feet 
between  the  shoals.  If  the  skipper  misses  our  trap,  he'll 
go  aground.  Say,  they'll  be  able  to  wade  ashore  from 
the  tug  if  that  happens. —  Come  on,  now,  we'll  get  the 
stuff  aft  and  ready  to  toss  out.  You  take  starboard 
and  I'll  take  port,  and  when  I  give  the  word  you  shoot 
that  beer  case  out  to  the  side  as  far  as  you  can." 

Though  the  wind  eased  down,  the  Angelique,  square 
before  it,  managed  to  make  five  knots,  while  the  Dolores, 
doing  six,  slowly  overhauled  her.  As  the  rifles  began  to 
speak  from  the  Dolores,  the  skipper,  under  the  direction 
of  Henry  and  Francis,  built  up  on  the  schooner's  stern 
a  low  barricade  of  sacks  of  potatoes  and  onions,  of  old 
sails,  and  of  hawser  coils.  Crouching  low  in  the  shelter 
of  this,  the  helmsman  managed  to  steer.  Leoncia  re 
fused  to  go  below  as  the  firing  became  more  continuous, 
but  compromised  by  lying  down  behind  the  cabin-house. 
The  rest  of  the  sailors  sought  similar  shelter  in  nooks  and 
corners,  while  the  Solano  men,  lying  aft,  returned  the 
fire  of  the  tug. 

Henry  and  Francis,  in  their  chosen  positions  and  wait 
ing  until  the  narrowness  of  El  Tigre  was  reached,  took 
a  hand  in  the  free  and  easy  battle. 


HEARTS    Or    THREE  101 

"  My  congratulations,  sir,"  Captain  Trefethen  said  to 
Francis,  the  Indian  of  him  compelling  him  to  raise  his 
head  to  peer  across  the  rail,  the  negro  of  him  flattening 
his  body  down  until  almost  it  seemed  to  bore  into  the 
deck.  "  That  was  Captain  Rosaro  himself  that  was 
steering,  and  the  way  he  jumped  and  grabbed  his  hand 
would  lead  one  to  conclude  that  you  had  very  adequately 
put  a  bullet  through  it.  That  Captain  Rosaro  is  a  very 
hot-tempered  hombre,  sir.  I  can  almost  hear  him  blas 
pheming  now." 

"  Stand  ready  for  the  word,  Francis,"  Henry  said, 
laying  down  his  rifle  and  carefully  studying  the  low 
shores  of  the  islands  of  El  Tigre  on  either  side  of  them. 
"  We're  almost  ready.  Take  your  time  when  I  give  the 
word,  and  at '  three  '  let  her  go." 

The  tug  was  two  hundred  yards  away  and  overtaking 
fast,  when  Henry  gave  the  word.  He  and  Francis  stood 
up,  and  at  "  three  "  made  their  fling.  To  either  side  can 
and  beer-case  flew,  dragging  behind  them  through  the 
air  the  beaded  rope  of  pots  and  cans  and  bottles  and 
rope-streamers. 

In  their  interest,  Henry  and  Francis  remained  standing 
in  order  to  watch  the  maw  of  their  trap  as  denoted  by 
the  spread  of  miscellaneous  objects  on  the  surface  of  their 
troubled  wake.  A  fusillade  of  rifle  shots  from  the  tug 
made  them  drop  back  flat  to  the  deck;  but,  peering  over 
the  rail,  they  saw  the  tug's  forefoot  press  the  floated  rope 
down  and  under.  A  minute  later  they  say  the  tug  slow 
down  to  a  stop. 

"  Some  mess  wrapped  around  that  propeller/'  Francis 
applauded.  "  Henry,  salute." 

"  Now,  if  the  wind  holds  — "  said  Henry  modestly. 

The  Angelique  sailed  on,  leaving  the  motionless  tug 
to  grow  smaller  in  the  distance,  but  not  so  small  that  they 


1  02  *     »  "  '/&]AR*r'     F  'TH  REE 


could  not  see  her  drift  helplessly  onto  the  shoal,  and  see 
men  going  over  the  side  and  wading  about. 

"  We  just  must  sing  our  little  song,"  Henry  cried  jubi 
lantly,  starting  up  the  stave  of  "  Back  to  Back  Against 
the  Mainmast." 

'''  Which  is  all  very  nice,  sir,"  Captain  Trefethen  inter 
rupted  at  the  conclusion  of  the  first  chorus,  his  eyes  glist 
ening  and  his  shoulders  still  jiggling  to  the  rhythm  of  the 
song.  "  But  the  wind  has  ceased,  sir.  We  are  becalmed. 
How  are  we  to  get  out  of  Juchitan  Inlet  without  wind? 
The  Dolores  is  not  wrecked.  She  is  merely  delayed. 
Some  nigger  will  go  down  and  clear  her  propeller,  and 
then  she  has  us  right  where  she  wants  us." 

"  It's  not  so  far  to  shore,"  Henry  adjudged  with  a 
measuring  eye  as  he  turned  to  Enrico. 

"  What  kind  of  a  shore  have  they  got  ashore  here, 
Sefior  Solano?"  he  queried.  "Maya  Indians  and 
haciendados  —  which  ?  " 

"  Haciendados  and  Mayas,  both,"  Enrico  answered. 
"  But  I  know  the  country  well.  If  the  schooner  is  not 
safe,  we  should  be  safe  ashore.  We  can  get  horses  and 
saddles  and  beef  and  corn.  The  Cordilleras  are  beyond. 
What  more  should  we  want?" 

"  But  Leoncia?"  Francis  asked  solicitously. 

"  Was  born  in  the  saddle,  and  in  the  saddle  there  are 
few  Americanos  she  would  not  weary,"  came  Enrico's 
answer.  "  It  would  be  well,  with  your  acquiescence,  to 
swing  out  the  long  boat  in  case  the  Dolores  appears  upon 


us." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

,  "  IT'S  all  right,  skipper,  it's  all  right,"  Henry  assured 
the  breed  captain,  who,  standing  on  the  beach  with  them, 
seemed  loath  to  say  farewell  and  pull  back  to  the 
Ang clique  adrift  half  a  mile  away  in  the  dead  calm  which 
had  fallen  on  Juchitan  Inlet. 

"  It  is  what  we  call  a  diversion,"  Francis  explained. 
"  That  is  a  nice  word  —  diversion.  And  it  is  even  nicer 
when  you  see  it  work." 

"  But  if  it  don't  work,"  Captain  Trefethen  protested, 
"  then  will  it  spell  a  confounded  word,  which  I  may 
name  as  catastrophe." 

"  That  is  what  happened  to  the  Dolores  when  we 
tangled  her  propeller,"  Henry  laughed.  "  But  we  do  not 
know  the  meaning  of  that  word.  We  use  diversion  in 
stead.  The  proof  that  it  will  work  is  that  we  are  leaving 
Senor  Solano's  two  sons  with  you.  Alvarado  and  Mart 
inez  know  the  passages  like  a  book.  They  will  pilot  you 
out  with  the  first  favoring  breeze.  The  Jefe  is  not  in 
terested  in  you.  He  is  after  us,  and  when  we  take  to 
the  hills  he'll  be  on  our  trail  with  every  last  man  of  his." 

"  Don't  you  see !  "  Francis  broke  in.  '  The  Angelique 
is  trapped.  If  we  remain  on  board  he  will  capture  us 
and  the  Angelique  as  well.  But  we  make  the  diversion  of 
taking  to  the  hills.  He  pursues  us.  The  Angelique  goes 
free.  And  of  course  he  won't  catch  us." 

"  But  suppose  I  do  lose  the  schooner  ?  "  the  swarthy 
skipper  persisted.  "If  she  goes  on  the  rocks  I  will  lose 
her,  and  the  passages  are  very  perilous." 

"  Then  you  will  be  paid  for  her,  as  I've  told  you  be 
fore,"  Francis  said,  with  a  show  of  rising  irritation. 

"  Also  are  there  my  numerous  expenses  - 

103 


IO4  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Francis  pulled  out  a  pad  and  pencil,  scribbled  a  note, 
and  passed  it  over,  saying: 

"  Present  that  to  Senor  Melchor  Gonzales  at  Bocas  del 
Toro.  It  is  for  a  thousand  gold.  He  is  the  banker;  he 
is  my  agent,  and  he  will  pay  it  to  you." 

Captain  Trefethen  stared  incredulously  at  the  scrawled 
bit  of  paper. 

"  Oh,  he's  good  for  it,"  Henry  said. 
'  Yes,  sir,  I  know,  sir,  that  Mr.  Francis  Morgan  is 
a  wealthy  gentleman  of  renown.  But  how  wealthy  is 
he?  Is  he  as  wealthy  as  I  modestly  am?  I  own  the 
Angelique,  free  of  all  debt.  I  own  two  town  lots,  unim 
proved,  in  Colon.  And  I  own  four  water-front^lots  in 
Belen  that  will  make  me  very  wealthy  when  the  Union 
Fruit  Company  begins  the  building  of  the  ware 
houses  — " 

"How  much,  Francis,  did  your  father  leave  you?" 
Henry  quipped  teasingly.  "  Or,  rather,  how  many?  " 

Francis  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  answered  vaguely : 
"  More  than  I  have  fingers  and  toes." 

"Dollars,  sir?"  queried  the  captain. 

Henry  shook  his  head  sharply. 

"  Thousands,'  sir?  " 

Again  Henry  shook  his  head. 

"Millions,  sir?" 

"  Now  you're  talking,"  Henry  answered.  "  Mr. 
Francis  Morgan  is  rich  enough  to  buy  almost  all  of  the 
Republic  of  Panama,  with  the  Canal  cut  out  of  the  deal." 

The  negro-Indian  mariner  looked  his  unbelief  to  Enrico 
Solano,  who  replied : 

"  He  is  an  honorable  gentleman.  I  know.  I  have 
cashed  his  paper,  drawn  on  Senor  Melchor  Gonzales  at 
Bocas  del  Toro,  for  a  thousand  pesos.  There  it  is  in  the 
bag  there." 

He  nodded  his  head  up  the  beach  to  where  Leoncia, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  1 05 

in  the  midst  of  the  dunnage  landed  with  them,  was  toying 
with  trying  to  slip  cartridges  into  a  Winchester  rifle. 
The  bag,  which  the  skipper  had  long  since  noted,  lay  at 
her  feet  in  the  sand. 

"  I  do  hate  to  travel  strapped,"  Francis  ^explained  em- 
barrassedly  to  the  white  men  of  the  group.  "  One  never 
knows  when  a  dollar  mayn't  come  in  handy.  I  got 
caught  with  a  broken  machine  at  Smith  River  Corners,  up 
New  York  way,  one  night,  with  nothing  but  a  check 
book,  and  d'  you  know,  I  couldn't  get  even  a  cigarette  in 
the  town." 

"  I  trusted  a  white  gentleman  in  Barbadoes  once,  who 
chartered  my  boat  to  go  fishing  flying  fish-  '  the  cap 
tain  began. 

"  Well,  so  long  skipper,"  Henry  shut  him  off.  '  You'd 
better  be  getting  on  board,  because  we're  going  to  hike." 

And  for  Captain  Trefethen,  staring  at  the  backs  of  his 
departing  passengers,  remained  naught  but  to  obey. 
Helping  to  shove  the  boat  off,  he  climbed  in,  took  the 
steering  sweep,  and  directed  his  course  toward  the  An- 
gelique.  Glancing  back  from  time  to  time,  he  saw  the 
party  on  the  beach  shoulder  the  baggage  and  disappear 
into  the  dense  green  wall  of  vegetation. 

They  came  out  upon  an  inchoate  clearing,  and  saw 
gangs  of  peons  at  work  chopping  down  and  grubbing 
out  the  roots  of  the  virgin  tropic  forest  so  that  rubber 
trees  for  the  manufacture  of  automobile  tires  might  be 
planted  to  replace  it.  Leoncia,  beside  her  father,  walked 
in  the  lead.  Her  brothers,  Ricardo  and  Alesandro,  in  the 
middle,  were  burdened  with  the  dunnage,  as  were  Francis 
and  Henry  who  brought  up  the  rear.  And  this  strange 
procession  was  met  by  a  slender,  straight-backed,  hidalgo- 
appearing,  elderly  gentleman,  who  leaped  his  horse  across 
tree-trunks  and  stump-holes  in  order  to  gain  to  them. 


106  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

He  was  off  his  horse,  at  sight  of  Enrico,  sombrero  in 
hand  in  recognition  of  Leoncia,  his  hand  extended  to 
Enrico  in  greeting  of  ancient  friendship,  his  lips  word 
ing  words  and  his  eyes  expressing  admiration  to  Enrico's 
daughter. 

The  talk  was  in  rapid-fire  Spanish,  and  the  request  for 
horses  preferred  and  qualifiedly  granted,  ere  the  intro 
duction  of  the  two  Morgans  took  place.  The  hacien- 
dado's  horse,  after  the  Latin  fashion,  was  immediately 
Leoncia's,  and,  without  ado,  he  shortened  the  stirrups 
and  placed  her  astride  in  the  saddle.  A  murrain,  he  ex 
plained,  had  swept  his  plantation  of  riding  animals;  but 
his  chief  overseer  still  possessed  a  fair-conditioned  one 
which  was  Enrico's  as  soon  as  it  could  be  procured. 

His  handshake  to  Henry  and  Francis  was  hearty  as  well 
as  dignified,  as  he  took  two  full  minutes  ornately  to 
state  that  any  friend  of  his  dear  friend  Enrico  was  his 
friend.  When  Enrico  asked  the  haciendado  about  the 
trails  up  toward  the  Cordilleras  and  mentioned  oil,  Fran 
cis  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Don't  tell  me,  Senor,"  he  began,  "  that  they  have 
located  oil  in  Panama?" 

"  They  have,"  the  haciendado  nodded  gravely.  "  We 
knew  of  the  oil  ooze,  and  had  known  it  for  generations. 
But  it  was  the  Hermosillo  Company  that  sent  its  Gringo 
engineers  in  secretly  and  then  bought  up  the  land.  They 
say  it  is  a  great  field.  But  I  know  nothing  of  oil  my 
self.  They  have  many  wells,  and  have  bored  much,  and 
so  much  oil  have  they  that  it  is  running  away  over  the 
landscape.  They  say  they  cannot  choke  it  entirely  down, 
such  is  the  volume  and  pressure.  What  they  need  is  the 
pipe-line  to  ocean-carriage,  which  they  have  begun  to 
build.  In  the  meantime  it  flows  away  down  the  canyons, 
an  utter  loss  of  incredible  proportion." 

"  Have  they  built  any  tanks?  "  Francis  demanded,  his 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  IO7 

mind  running  eagerly  on  Tampico  Petroleum,  to  which 
most  of  his  own  fortune  was  pledged,  and  of  which, 
despite  the  rising  stock-market,  he  had  heard  nothing 
since  his  departure  from  New  York. 

The  haciendado  shook  his  head. 

"  Transportation,"  he  explained.  "  The  freight  from 
tide-water  to  the  gushers  by  mule-back  has  been  pro 
hibitive.  But  they  have  impounded  much  of  it.  They 
have  lakes  of  oil,  great  reservoirs  in  the  hollows  of  the 
hills,  earthen-dammed,  and  still  they  cannot  choke  down 
the  flow,  and  still  the  precious  substance  flows  down  the 
canyons." 

"  Have  they  roofed  these  reservoirs?"  Francis  in 
quired,  remembering  a  disastrous  fire  in  the  early  days 
of  Tampico  Petroleum. 

"  No,  sefior." 

Francis  shook  his  head  disapprovingly. 

"  They  should  be  roofed,"  he  said.  "  A  match  from 
the  drunken  or  revengeful  hand  of  any  peon  could  set 
the  whole  works  off.  It's  a  poor  business,  poor  business." 

"  But  I  am  not  the  Hermosillo,"  the  haciendado  said. 

"  For  the  Hermosillo  Company,  I  meant,  sefior," 
Francis  explained.  "  I  am  an  oil  man.  I  have  paid 
through  the  nose  to  the  tune  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
for  similar  accidents  or  crimes.  One  never  knows  just 
how  they  happen.  What  one  does  know  is  that  they 
do  happen  — 

What  more  Francis  might  have  said  about  the  expedi 
ency  of  protecting  oil  reservoirs  from  stupid  or  willful 
peons,  was  never  to  be  known;  for,  at  the  moment,  the 
chief  overseer  of  the  plantation,  stick  in  hand,  rode  up, 
half  his  interest  devoted  to  the  newcomers,  the  other  half 
to  the  squad  of  peons  working  close  at  hand. 

"  Senor  Ramirez,  will  you  favor  me  by  dismounting," 
his  employer,  the  haciendado,  politely  addressed  him,  at 


108  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  same  time  introducing  him  to  the  strangers  as  soon 
as  he  has  dismounted. 

'  The  animal  is  yours,  friend  Enrico,"  the  haciendado 
said.  "If  it  dies,  please  return  at  your  easy  con 
venience  the  saddle  and  gear.  And  if  your  convenience 
be  not  easy,  please  do  not  remember  that  there  is  to  be 
any  return,  save  ever  and  always,  of  your  love  for  me.  I 
regret  that  you  and  your  party  cannot  now  partake  of 
my  hospitality.  But  the  Jefe  is  a  bloodhound,  I  know. 
We  shall  do  our  best  to  send  him  astray." 

With  Leoncia  and  Enrico  mounted,  and  the  gear  made 
fast  to  the  saddles  by  leather  thongs,  the  cavalcade 
started,  Alesandro  and  Ricardo  clinging  each  to  a  stirrup 
of  their  father's  saddle  and  trotting  alongside.  This  was 
for  making  greater  haste,  and  was  emulated  by  Francis 
and  Henry,  who  clung  to  Leoncia's  stirrups.  Fast  to 
the  pommel  of  her  saddle  was  the  bag  of  silver  dollars. 

"  It  is  some  mistake,"  the  haciendado  was  explaining 
to  his  overseer.  "  Enrico  Solano  is  an  honorable  man. 
Anything  to  which  he  pledges  himself  is  honorable.  He 
has  pledged  himself  to  this,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  yet  is 
Mariano  Vercara  e  Hijos  on  their  trail.  We  shall  mis 
lead  him  if  he  comes  this  way." 

"  And  here  he  comes,"  the  overseer  remarked,  "  with 
out  luck  so  far  in  finding  horses."  Casually  he  turned 
on  the  laboring  peons  and  with  horrible  threats  urged 
them  to  do  at  least  half  a  day's  decent  work  in  a  day. 

From  the  corner  of  his  eye,  the  haciendado  observed 
the  fast-walking  group  of  men,  with  Alvarez  Torres  in 
the  lead;  but,  as  if  he  had  not  noticed,  he  conferred  with 
his  overseer  about  the  means  of  grubbing  out  the  par 
ticular  stump  the  peons  were  working  on. 

He  returned  the  greeting  of  Torres  pleasantly,  and 
inquired  politely,  with  a  touch  of  deviltry,  if  he  led  the 
party  of  men  on  some  oil-prospecting  adventure. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  IC>9 

"  No,  senor,"  Torres  answered.  "  We  are  in  search 
of  Sefior  Enrico  Solano,  his  daughter,  his  sons,  and  two 
tall  Gringos  with  them.  It  is  the  Gringos  we  want. 
They  have  passed  this  way,  Senor?  " 

"  Yes,  they  have  passed.  I  imagined  they,  too,  were  in 
some  oil  excitement,  such  was  their  haste  that  prevented 
them  from  courteously  passing  the  time  of  day  and 
stating  their  destination.  Have  they  committed  some 
offense?  But  I  should  not  ask.  Sefior  Enrico  Solano 
is  too  honorable  a  man  — 

"Which  way  did  they  go?"  the  Jefe  demanded, 
thrusting  himself  breathlessly  forward  from  the  rear  of 
his  gendarmes  with  whom  he  had  just  caught  up. 

And  while  the  haciendado  and  his  overseer  temporized 
and  prevaricated,  and  indicated  an  entirely  different  direc 
tion,  Torres  noted  one  of  the  peons,  leaning  on  his  spade, 
listen  intently.  And  still  while  the  Jefe  was  being  misled 
and  was  giving  orders  to  proceed  on  the  false  scent, 
Torres  flashed  a  silver  dollar  privily  to  the  listening  peon, 
The  peon  nodded  his  head  in  the  right  direction,  caught 
the  coin  unobserved,  and  applied  himself  to  his  digging 
at  the  roots  of  the  huge  stump. 

Torres  countermanded  the  Jefe's  order. 

"  We  will  go  the  other  way,"  Torres  said,  with  a  wink 
to  the  Jefe.  "  A  little  bird  has  told  me  that  our 
friend  here  is  mistaken  and  that  they  have  gone  the 
other  way." 

As  the  posse  departed  on  the  hot  trail,  the  haciendado 
and  his  overseer  looked  at  each  other  in  consternation 
and  amazement.  The  overseer  made  a  movement  of  his 
lips  for  silence,  and  looked  swiftly  at  the  group  of  labor 
ers.  The  offending  peon  was  working  furiously  and  ab- 
sorbedly,  but  another  peon,  with  a  barely  perceptible  nod 
of  head,  indicated  him  to  the  overseer. 


HO  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  There's  the  little  bird,"  the  overseer  cried,  striding 
to  the  traitor  and  shaking  him  violently. 

Out  of  the  peon's  rags  flew  the  silver  dollar. 

"  Ah,  ha,"  said  the  haciendado,  grasping  the  situation. 
"  He  has  become  suddenly  affluent.  This  is  horrible,  that 
my  peons  should  be  wealthy.  Doubtless,  he  has  murdered 
some  one  for  all  that  sum.  Beat  him,  and  make  him 
confess." 

The  creature,  on  his  knees,  the  stick  of  the  overseer 
raining  blows  on  his  head  and  back,  made  confession  of 
what  he  had  done  to  earn  the  dollar. 

"  Beat  him,  beat  him  some  more,  beat  him  to  death,  the 
beast  who  betrayed  my  dearest  friends,"  the  haciendado 
urged  placidly.  "  But  no  —  caution.  Do  not  beat  him 
to  death,  but  nearly  so.  We  are  short  of  labor  now  and 
cannot  afford  the  full  measure  of  our  just  resentment. 
Beat  him  to  hurt  him  much,  but  that  he  shall  be  compelled 
to  lay  off  work  no  more  than  a  couple  of  days." 

Of  the  immediately  subsequent  agonies,  adventures, 
and  misadventures  of  the  peon,  a  volume  might  be  writ 
ten  which  would  be  the  epic  of  his  life.  Besides,  to  be 
beaten  nearly  to  death  is  not  nice  to  contemplate  or  dwell 
upon.  Let  it  suffice  to  tell  that  when  he  had  received 
no  more  than  part  of  his  beating,  he  wrenched  free,  leav 
ing  half  his  rags  in  the  overseer's  grasp,  and  fled  madly 
for  the  jungle,  out  footing  the  overseer  who  was  unused 
to  rapid  locomotion  save  when  on  a  horse's  back. 

Such  was  the  speed  of  the  wretched  creature's  flight, 
spurred  on  by  the  pain  of  his  lacerations  and  the  fear 
of  the  overseer,  that,  plunging  wildly  on,  he  overtook  the 
Solano  party  and  plunged  out  of  the  jungle  and  into 
them  as  they  were  crossing  a  shallow  stream,  and  fell 
upon  his  knees,  whimpering  for  mercy.  He  whimpered 
because  of  his  betrayal  of  them.  But  this  they  did  not 
know,  and  Francis,  seeing  his  pitiable  condition,  lingered 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  III 

behind  long  enough  to  unscrew  the  metal  top  from  a 
pocket  flask  and  revive  him  with  a  drink  of  half  the 
contents.  Then  Francis  hastened  on,  leaving  the  poor 
devil  muttering  inarticulate  thanks  ere  he  dived  off  into 
the  sheltering  jungle  in  a  different  direction.  But,  under 
fed,  overworked,  his  body  gave  way,  and  he  sank  down 
in  collapse  in  the  green  covert. 

Next,  Alvarez  Torres  in  the  lead  and  tracking  like  a 
hound,  the  gendarmes  at  his  back,  the  Jefe  panting  in  the 
rear  from  shortness  of  breath,  the  pursuit  arrived  at  the 
stream.  The  foot-marks  of  the  peon,  still  wet  on  the 
dry  stones  beyond  the  margin  of  the  stream,  caught 
Torres'  eye.  In  a  trice,  by  what  little  was  left  of  his 
garments,  the  peon  was  dragged  out.  On  his  knees, 
which  portion  of  his  anatomy  he  was  destined  to  occupy 
much  this  day,  he  begged  for  mercy  and  received  his 
interrogation.  And  he  denied  knowledge  of  the  Solano 
party.  He,  who  had  betrayed  and  been  beaten,  but  who 
had  received  only  succor  from  those  he  had  betrayed, 
felt  stir  in  him  some  atom  of  gratitude  and  good.  He 
denied  knowledge  of  the  Solanos  since  in  the  clearing 
where  he  had  sold  them  for  the  silver  dollar.  Torres' 
stick  fell  upon  his  head,  five  times,  ten  times,  and  went 
on  falling  with  the  certitude  that  in  all  eternity  there 
would  be  no  cessation  unless  he  told  the  truth.  And, 
after  all,  he  was  a  miserable  and  wretched  thing,  spirit- 
broken  by  beatings  from  the  cradle,  and  the  sting  of 
Torres'  stick,  with  the  threat  of  the  plentitude  of  the 
stick  that  meant  the  death  his  own  owner,  the  hacien- 
dado,  could  not  afford,  made  him  give  in  and  point  the 
way  of  the  chase. 

But  his  day  of  tribulation  had  only  begun.  Scarcely 
had  he  betrayed  the  Solanos  the  second  time,  and  still  on 
his  knees,  when  the  haciendado,  with  the  posse  of  neigh 
boring  haciendados  and  overseers  he  had  called  to  his 


112  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

help,    burst    upon    the    scene    astride    sweating    horses. 

"  My  peon,  senors,"  announced  the  haciendado,  itch 
ing  to  be  at  him.  "  You  maltreat  him." 

"  And  why  not?  "  demanded  the  Jefe. 
.    "  Because  he  is  mine  to  maltreat,  and  I  wish  to  do  it 
myself." 

The  peon  crawled  and  squirmed  to  the  Jefe's  feet  and 
begged  and  entreated  not  to  be  given  up.  But  he  begged 
for  mercy  where  was  no  mercy. 

"Certainly,  seiior,"  the  Jefe  said  to  the  haciendado. 
''•We  give  him  back  to  you.  We  must  uphold  the  law, 
and  he  is  your  property.  Besides,  we  have  no  further 
use  for  him.  Yet  is  he  a  most  excellent  peon,  seiior.  He 
has  done  what  no  peon  has  ever  done  in  the  history «of 
Panama.  He  has  told  the  truth  twice  in  one  day." 

His  hands  tied  together  in  front  of  him  and  hitched 
by  a  rope  to  the  horn  of  the  overseer's  saddle,  the  peon 
was  towed  away  on  the  back-track  with  a  certain  appre 
hension  that  the  worst  of  his  beatings  for  that  day  was 
very  imminent.  Nor  was  he  mistaken.  Back  at  the 
plantation,  he  was  tied  like  an  animal  to  a  post  of  a 
barbed  wire  fence  while  his  owner  and  the  friends  of 
his  owner  who  had  helped  in  the  capture  went  into  the 
hacienda  to  take  their  twelve  o'clock  breakfast.  After 
that,  he  knew  what  he  was  to  receive.  But  the  barbed 
wire  of  the  fence,  and  the  lame  mare  in  the  paddock  be 
hind  it,  built  an  idea  in  the  desperate  mind  of  the  peon. 
Though  the  sharp  barbs  of  the  wire  again  and  again  cut 
his  wrist,  he  quickly  sawed  through  his  bonds,  free  save 
for  the  law,  crawled  under  the  fence,  led  the  lame  mare 
through  the  gate,  mounted  her  barebacked,  and,  with 
naked  heels  tattooing  her  ribs,  galloped  her  away  toward 
the  safety  of  the  Cordilleras. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  the  meantime  the  Solanos  were  being  overtaken,  and 
Henry  teased  Francis  with : 

"  Here  in  the  jungle  is  where  dollars  are  worthless. 
They  can  buy  neither  fresh  horses,  nor  can  they  repair 
these  two  spineless  creatures  which  must  likewise  be  af 
flicted  with  the  murrain  that  carried  off  the  rest  of  the 
haciendado's  riding  animals." 

"  I've  never  been  in  a  place  yet  where  money  wouldn't 
work,"  Francis  replied. 

"  I  suppose  it  could  even  buy  a  drink  of  water  in 
hell,"  was  Henry's  retort. 

Leoncia  clapped  her  hands. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Francis  observed.  "  I  have  never 
been  there." 

Again  Leoncia  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Just  the  same  I  have  an  idea  that  I  can  make  dollars 
work  in  the  jungle,  and  I  am  going  to  try  it  right  now," 
Francis  continued,  at  the  same  time  untying  the  coin- 
sack  from  Leoncia's  pommel.  '  You  go  ahead  and  ride 
on." 

"  But  you  must  tell  me,"  Leoncia  insisted ;  and,  aside, 
in  her  ear  as  she  leaned  to  him  from  the  saddle,  he 
whispered  what  made  her  laugh  again,  while  Henry,  con 
ferring  with  Enrico  and  his  sons,  inwardly  berated  him 
self  for  being  a  jealous  fool. 

Before  they  were  out  of  sight,  looking  back,  they  saw 
Francis,  with  pad  and  pencil  out,  writing  something. 
What  he  wrote  was  eloquently  brief,  merely  the  figure 
"  50."  Tearing  off  the  sheet,  he  laid  it  conspicuously  in 

113 


114  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  middle  of  the  trail  and  weighted  it  down  with  a 
silver  dollar.  Counting  out  forty-nine  other  dollars  from 
the  bag,  he  sowed  them  very  immediately  about  the  first 
one  and  ran  up  the  trail  after  his  party. 

Augustino,  the  gendarme  who  rarely  spoke  when  he 
was  sober,  but  who  when  drunk  preached  volubly  the 
wisdom  of  silence,  was  in  the  lead,  with  bent  head  nosing 
the  track  of  the  quarry,  when  his  keen  eyes  lighted  on  the 
silver  dollar  holding  down  the  sheet  of  paper.  The  first 
he  appropriated;  the  second  he  turned  over  to  the  Jefe. 
Torres  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  together  they  read 
the  mystic  "  50."  The  Jefe  tossed  the  scrap  of  paper 
aside  as  of  little  worth,  and  was  for  resuming  the  chase, 
but  Augustino  picked  up  and  pondered  the  "  50  "  thought 
fully.  Even  as  he  pondered  it,  a  shout  from  Rafael  ad 
vertised  the  finding  of  another  dollar.  Then  Augustino 
knew.  There  wrere  fifty  of  the  coins  to  be  had  for  the 
picking  up.  Flinging  the  note  to  the  wind,  he  was  on 
hands  and  knees  overhauling  the  ground.  The  rest  of 
the  party  joined  in  the  scramble,  while  Torres  and  the 
Jefe  screamed  curses  on  them  in  a  vain  effort  to  make 
them  proceed. 

When  the  gendarmes  could  find  no  more,  they  counted 
up  what  they  had  received.  The  toll  came  to  forty- 
seven. 

*  There  are  three  more,"  cried  Rafael,  whereupon  all 
flung  themselves  into  the  search  again.  Five  minutes 
more  were  lost,  ere  the  other  three  coins  were  found. 
Each  pocketed  what  he  had  retrieved  and  obediently 
swung  into  the  pursuit  at  the  heels  of  Torres  and  the 
Jefe. 

A  mile  farther  on,  Torres  tried  to  trample  a  shining 
dollar  into  the  dirt,  but  Augustine's  ferret  eyes  had  been 
too  quick,  and  his  eager  fingers  dug  it  out  of  the  soft 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  115 

earth.  Where  was  one  dollar,  as  they  had  already 
learned,  there  were  more  dollars.  The  posse  came  to  a 
halt,  and  while  the  two  leaders  fumed  and  imprecated, 
the  rest  of  the  members  cast  about  right  and  left  from 
the  trail. 

Vicente,  a  moon-faced  gendarme  who  looked  more 
like  a  Mexican  Indian  than  a  Maya  or  a  Panamanian 
"  breed,"  lighted  first  on  the  clew.  All  gathered  about, 
like  hounds  around  a  tree  into  which  the  'possum  had 
been  run.  In  truth,  it  was  a  tree,  or  a  rotten  and  hollow 
stump  of  one,  a  dozen  feet  in  height  and  a  third  as  many 
feet  in  diameter.  Five  feet  from  the  ground  was  an 
opening.  Above  the  opening,  pinned  on  by  a  thorn,  was 
a  sheet  of  paper  the  same  size  as  the  first  they  had 
found.  On  it  was  written  "  roo." 

In  the  scramble  that  ensued,  half  a  dozen  minutes  were 
lost  as  half  a  dozen  right  arms  strove  to  be  first  in  dip 
ping  into  the  hollow  heart  of  the  stump  to  the  treasure. 
But  the  hollow  extended  deeper  than  their  arms  were  long. 

"  We  will  chop  down  the  stump."  Rafael  cried,  sound 
ing  with  the  back  of  his  machete  against  the  side  of  it  to 
locate  the  base  of  the  hollow.  "  We  will  all  chop,  and 
we  will  count  what  we  find  inside  and  divide  equally." 

By  this  time  their  leaders  were  frantic,  and  the  Jefe 
had  begun  threatening,  the  moment  they  were  back  in 
San  Antonio,  to  send  them  to  San  Juan  where  their  car 
casses  would  be  picked  by  the  buzzards. 

"  But  we  are  not  back  in  San  Antonio,  thank  God," 
said  Augustino,  breaking  his  sober  seal  of  silence  in  order 
to  enunciate  wisdom. 

"  We  are  poor  men,  and  we  will  divide  in  fairness," 
spoke  up  Rafael.  "  Augustino  is  right,  and  thank  God 
for  it.  that  we  are  not  back  in  San  Antonio.  This  rich 
Gringo  scatters  more  money  along  the  way  in  a  day  for 
us  to  pick  up  than  could  we  earn  in  a  year  where  we  come 


Il6  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

from.     I,  for  one,  am  for  revolution,  where  money  is  so 
plentiful." 

;'  With  the  rich  Gringo  for  a  leader,"  Augustino  sup 
plemented.  "  For  as  long  as  he  leads  this  way  I  could 
follow  him  forever." 

"  If,"  Rafael  nodded  agreement,  with  a  pitch  of  his 
head  toward  Torres  and  the  Jefe,  "  if  they  do  not  give 
us  opportunity  to  gather  what  the  gods  have  spread  for 
us,  then  to  the  last  and  deepest  of  the  roasting  hells  of 
hell  for  them.  We  are  men,  not  slaves.  The  world  is 
wide.  The  Cordilleras  are  just  beyond.  We  will  all  be 
rich,  and  free  men,  and  live  in  the  Cordilleras  where  the 
Indian  maidens  are  wildly  beautiful  and  desirable — " 

"  And  we  will  be  well  rid  of  our  wives,  back  in  San 
Antonio,"  said  Vicente.  "  Let  us  now  chop  down  this 
treasure  tree." 

Swinging  their  machetes  with  heavy,  hacking  blows, 
the  wood,  so  rotten  that  it  was  spongy,  gave  way  readily 
before  their  blades.  And  when  the  stump  fell  over,  they 
counted  and  divided,  in  equity,  not  one  hundred  silver 
dollars,  but  one  hundred  and  forty-seven. 

"  He  is  generous,  this  Gringo,"  quoth  Vicente.  "  He 
leaves  more  than  he  says.  May  there  not  be  still  more  ?  " 

And,  from  the  debris  of  rotten  wood,  much  of  it 
crumbled  to  powder  under  their  blows,  they  recovered  five 
more  coins,  in  the  doing  of  which  they  lost  ten  more  min 
utes  that  drove  Torres  and  the  Jefe  to  the  verge  of  mad 
ness. 

"  He  does  not  stop  to  count,  the  wealthy  Gringo,"  said 
Rafael.  "  He  must  merely  open  that  sack  and  pour  it 
out.  And  that  is  the  sack  with  which  he  rode  to  the  beach 
of  San  Antonio  when  he  blew  up  with  dynamite  the  wall 
of  our  jail." 

The  chase  was  resumed,  and  all  went  well  for  half 
an  hour,  when  they  came  upon  an  abandoned  freehold, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  117 

already  half-overrun  with  the  returning  jungle.  A  dilap 
idated,  straw-thatched  house,  a  f alien-in  labor  barracks, 
a  broken-down  corral  the  very  posts  of  which  had 
sprouted  and  leaved  into  growing  trees,  and  a  well  show 
ing  recent  use  by  virtue  of  a  fresh  length  of  riata  attach 
ing  bucket  to  well-sweep,  showed  where  some  man  had 
failed  to  tame  the  wild.  And,  conspicuously  on  the  well- 
sweep,  was  pinned  a  familiar  sheet  of  paper  on  which 
was  written  "  300." 

"Mother  of  God!  —  a  fortune!"  cried  Rafael. 

"  May  the  devil  forever  torture  him  in  the  last  and 
deepest  hell !  "  was  Torres'  contribution. 

"  He  pays  better  than  your  Seiior  Regan,"  the  Jefe 
sneered  in  his  despair  and  disgust. 

"  His  bag  of  silver  is  only  so  large,"  Torres  retorted. 
"  It  seems  we  must  pick  it  all  up  before  we  catch  him. 
But  when  we  have  picked  it  all  up,  and  his  bag  is  empty, 
then  will  we  catch  him." 

"  We  will  go  on  now,  comrades,"  the  Jefe  addressed 
his  posse  ingratiatingly.  "  Afterwards,  we  will  return 
at  our  leisure  and  recover  the  silver." 

Augustino  broke  his  seal  of  silence  again. 

"  One  never  knows  the  way  of  one's  return,  if  one  ever 
returns,"  he  enunciated  pessimistically.  Elated  by  the 
pearl  of  wisdom  he  had  dropped,  he  essayed  another. 
"  Three  hundred  in  hand  is  better  than  three  million  in 
the  bottom  of  a  well  we  may  never  see  again." 

"  Some  one  must  descend  into  the  well,"  spoke  Rafael, 
testing  the  braided  rope  with  his  weight.  "  See !  The 
riata  is  strong.  We  will  lower  a  man  by  it.  Who  is 
the  brave  one  who  will  go  down?  " 

"  I,"  said  Vicente.  "  I  will  be  the  brave  one  to  go 
down  — 

"  And  steal  half  that  you  find,"  Rafael  uttered  his  in 
stant  suspicion.  "  If  you  go  down,  first  must  you  count 


Il8  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

over  to  us  the  pesos  you  already  possess.  Then,  when 
you  come  up,  we  can  search  you  for  all  you  have  found. 
After  that,  when  we  have  divided  equitably,  will  your 
other  pesos  be  returned  to  you." 

'  Then  will  I  not  go  down  for  comrades  who  have  no 
trust  in  me,"  Vicente  said  stubbornly.  "  Here,  beside 
the  well,  I  am  as  wealthy  as  any  of  you.  Then  why 
should  I  go  down?  I  have  heard  of  men  dying  in  the 
bottom  of  wells." 

"In  God's  name  go  down!"  stormed  the  Jefe. 
"Haste!  Haste!" 

"  I  am  too  fat,  the  rope  is  not  strong,  and  I  shall  not 
go  down,"  said  Vicente. 

All  looked  to  Augustino,  the  silent  one,  who  had  already 
spoken  more  than  he  was  accustomed  to  speak  in  a 
week. 

"  Guillermo  is  the  thinnest  and  lightest,"  said  Augus 
tino. 

"  Guillermo  will  go  down !  "  the  rest  chorused. 

But  Guillermo,  glaring  apprehensively  at  the  mouth  of 
the  well,  backed  away,  shaking  his  head  and  crossing 
himself. 

"•Not  for  the  sacred  treasure  in  the  secret  city  of  the 
Mayas,"  he  muttered. 

The  Jefe  pulled  his  revolver  and  glanced  to  the  re 
mainder  of  the  posse  for  confirmation.  With  eyes  and 
head-nods  they  gave  it. 

"  In  heaven's  name  go  down,"  he  threatened  the  little 
gendarme.  "  And  make  haste,  or  I  shall  put  you  in 
such  a  fix  that  never  again  will  you  go  up  or  down,  but 
you  will  remain  here  and  rot  forever  beside  this  hole  of 
perdition. —  Is  it  well,  comrades,  that  I  kill  him  if  he  does 
not  go  down?  " 

"  It  is  well,"  they  shouted. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  119 

And  Guillermo,  with  trembling  fingers,  counted  out 
the  coins  he  had  already  retrieved,  and,  in  the  throes  of 
fear,  crossing  himself  repeatedly  and  'urged  on  by  the 
hand-thrusts  of  his  companions,  stepped  upon  the  bucket, 
sat  down  on  it  with  legs  wrapped  about  it,  and  was  low 
ered  away  out  of  the  light  of  day. 

"Stop!"  he  screamed  up  the  shaft.  "Stop!  Stop! 
The  water !  I  am  upon  it !  " 

Those  on  the  sweep  held  it  with  their  weight. 

"  I  should  receive  ten  pesos  extra  above  my  share,"  he 
called  up. 

"  You  shall  receive  baptism,"  was  called  down  to  him, 
and,  variously:  "You  will  have  your  fill  of  water  this 
day";  "We  will  let  go";  "We  will  cut  the  rope"; 
"  There  will  be  one  less  with  whom  to  share." 

"  The  water  is  not  nice,"  he  replied,  his  voice  rising 
like  a  ghost's  out  of  the  dark  depth.  "  There  are  sick 
lizards,  and  a  dead  bird  that  stinks.  And  there  may  be 
be  snakes.  It  is  well  worth  ten  pesos  extra  what  I  must 
do." 

"  We  will  drown  you !  "  Rafael  shouted. 

"  I  shall  shoot  down  upon  you  and  kill  you!  "  the  Jefe 
bullied. 

"Shoot  or  drown  me,"  Guillermo's  voice  floated  up; 
"  but  it  will  buy  you  nothing,  for  the  treasure  will  still 
be  in  the  well." 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  those  at  the  surface 
questioned  each  other  with  their  eyes  as  to  what  they 
should  do. 

"  And  the  Gringoes  are  running  ;away  farther  and 
farther,"  Torres  fumed.  "  A  fine  discipline  you  have, 
Senor  Mariano  Vercara  e  Hijos,  over  your  gendarmes !  " 

"  This  is  not  San  Antonio,"  the  Jefe  flared  back. 
"  This  is  the  bush  of  Juchitan.  My  dogs  are  good  dogs 


120  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

in  San  Antonio.  In  the  bush  they  must  be  handled  gently, 
else  may  they  become  wild  dogs,  and  what  then  will  hap 
pen  to  you  and  me?  " 

"  It  is  the  curse  of  gold,"  Torres  surrendered  sadly. 
"  It  is  almost  enough  to  make  one  become  a  socialist,  with 
a  Gringo  thus  tying  the  hands  of  justice  with  ropes  of 
gold." 

"  Of  silver,"  the  Jefe  corrected. 

"  You  go  to  hell/'  said  Torres.  "  As  you  haye  pointed 
out,  this  is  not  San  Antonio  but  the  bush  of  Juchitan, 
and  here  I  may  well  tell  you  to  go  to  hell.  Why  should 
you  and  I  quarrel  because  of  your  bad  temper,  when  our 
prosperity  depends  on  standing  together?" 

"  Besides,"  the  voice  of  Guillermo  drifted  up,  "  the 
water  is  not  two  feet  deep.  You  cannot  drown  me  in 
it.  I  have  just  felt  the  bottom  and  I  have  four  round 
silver  pesos  in  my  hand  right  now.  The  bottom  is  car 
peted  with  pesos.  Do  you  want  to  let  go  ?  Or  do  I  get 
ten  pesos  extra  for  the  filthy  job?  The  water  stinks  like 
a  fresh  graveyard." 

"  Yes !     Yes !  "  they  shouted  down. 

"Which?     Let  go?     Or  the  extra  ten?" 

"  The  extra  ten !  "  they  chorused. 

"  In  God's  name,  haste !  haste !  "  cried  the  Jefe. 

They  heard  splashings  and  curses  from  the  bottom  of 
the  well,  and,  from  the  lightening  of  the  strain  on  the 
riata,  knew  that  Guillermo  had  left  the  bucket  and  was 
floundering  for  the  coin. 

"  Put  it  in  the  bucket,  good  Guillermo,"  Rafael  called 
down. 

;<  I  am  putting  it  in  my  pockets,"  up  came  the  reply. 
"  Did  I  put  it  in  the  bucket  you  might  haul  it  up  first 
and  well  forget  to  haul  me  up  afterward." 

"  The  double  weight  might  break  the  riata,"  Rafael 
cautioned. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  121 

"  The  riata  may  not  be  so  strong  as  my  will,  for  my 
will  in  this  matter  is  most  strong,"  said  Guillermo. 

"  If  the  riata  should  break  -  ''  Rafael  began  again. 

11 1  have  a  solution,"  said  Guillermo.  "  Do  you  come 
down.  Then  shall  I  go  up  first.  Second,  the  treasure 
shall  go  up  in  the  bucket.  And,  third  and  last,  shall  you 
go  up.  Thus  will  justice  be  triumphant." 

Rafael,  with  dropped  jaw  of  dismay,  did  not  reply. 

"  Are  you  coming,   Rafael?" 

"  No,"  he  answered.  "  Put  all  the  silver  in  your 
pockets  and  come  up  together  with  it." 

"  I  could  curse  the  race  that  bore  me,"  was  the  im 
patient  observation  of  the  Jefe. 

"  I  have  already  cursed  it,"  said  Torres. 

"Haul  away!"  shouted  Guillermo.  UI  have  every 
thing  in  my  pockets  save  the  stench ;  and  I  am  suffocating. 
Haul  quick,  or  I  shall  perish,  and  the  three  hundred  pesos 
will  perish  with  me.  And  there  are  more  than  three 
hundred.  He  must  have  emptied  his  bag." 

Ahead,  on  the  trail,  where  the  way  grew  steep  and  the 
horses  without  stamina  rested  and  panted,  Francis  over 
took  his  party. 

"  Never  again  shall  I  travel  without  minted  coin  of 
the  realm,"  he  exulted,  as  he  described  what  he  had  re 
mained  behind  to  see  from  the  edge  of  the  deserted  plan 
tation.  "  Henry,  when  I  die  and  go  to  heaven,  I  shall 
have  a  stout  bag  of  cash  along  with  me.  Even  there 
could  it  redeem  me  from  heaven  alone  knows  what 
scrapes.  Listen !  They  fought  like  cats  and  dogs  about 
the  mouth  of  the  well.  Nobody  would  trust  anybody  to 
descend  into  the  well  unless  he  deposited  wrhat  he  had  pre 
viously  picked  up  with  those  that  remained  at  the  top. 
They  were  out  of  hand.  The  Jefe,  at  the  point  of  his 
gun,  had  to  force  the  littlest  and  leanest  of  them  to  go 


122  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

down.  And  when  he  was  down  he  blackmailed  them 
before  he  would  come  up.  And  when  he  came  up  they 
broke  their  promises  and  gave  him  a  beating.  They  were 
still  beating  him  when  I  left." 

"  But  now  your  sack  is  empty,"  said  Henry. 

"  Which  is  our  present  and  most  pressing  trouble," 
Francis  agreed.  "  Had  I  sufficient  pesos  I  could  keep  the 
pursuit  well  behind  us  forever.  I'm  afraid  I  was  too 
generous.  I  did  not  know  how  cheap  the  poor  devils 
were.  But  I'll  tell  you  something  that  will  make  your 
hair  stand  up.  Torres,  Sefior  Torres,  Sefior  Alvarez 
Torres,  the  elegant  gentleman  and  old-time  friend  of  you 
Solanos,  is  leading  the  pursuit  along  with  the  Jefe.  He 
is  furious  at  the  delay.  They  almost  had  a  rupture  be 
cause  the  Jefe  couldn't  keep  his  men  in  hand.  Yes,  sir, 
and  he  told  the  Jefe  to  go  to  hell.  I  distinctly  heard  him 
tell  the  Jefe  to  go  to  hell." 

Five  miles  farther  on,  the  horses  of  Leoncia  and  her 
father  in  collapse,  where  the  trail  plunged  into  and  as 
cended  a  dark  ravine,  Francis  urged  the  others  on  and 
dropped  behind.  Giving  them  a  few  minutes'  start,  he 
followed  on  behind,  a  self-constituted  rearguard.  Part 
way  along,  in  an  open  space  where  grew  only  a  thick 
sod  of  grass,  he  was  dismayed  to  find  the  hoof-prints  of 
the  two  horses  staring  at  him  as  large  as  dinner  plates 
from  out  of  the  sod.  Into  the  hoof-prints  had  welled  a 
dark,  slimy  fluid  that  his  eye  told  him  was  crude  oil. 
This  was  but  the  beginning,  a  sort  of  seepage  from  a  side 
stream  above,  off  from  the  main  flow.  A  hundred  yards 
beyond  he  came  upon  the  flow  itself,  a  river  of  oil  that 
on  such  a  slope  would  have  been  a  cataract  had  it  been 
water.  But  being  crude  oil,  as  thick  as  molasses,  it 
oozed  slowly  down  the  hill  like  so  much  molasses.  And 
here,  preferring  to  make  his  stand  rather  than  to  wade 
through  the  sticky  mess,  Francis  sat  down  on  a  rock, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  123 

laid  his  rifle  on  one  side  of  him,  his  automatic  pistol  on 
the  other  side,  rolled  a  cigarette,  and  kept  his  ears  pricked 
for  the  first  sounds  of  the  pursuit. 

And  the  beaten  peon,  threatened  with  more  beatings 
and  belaboring  his  over-ridden  mare,  rode  across  the  top 
of  the  ravine  above  Francis,  and,  at  the  oil-well  itself, 
had  his  exhausted  animal  collapse  under  him.  With  his 
heels  he  kicked  her  back  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  stick  be 
labored  her  to  stagger  away  from  him  and  on  into  the 
jungle.  And  the  first  day  of  his  adventures,  although 
he  did  not  know  it,  was  not  yet  over.  He,  too,  squatted 
on  a  stone,  his  feet  out  of  the  oil,  rolled  a  cigarette,  and, 
as  he  smoked  it,  contemplated  the  flowing  oil-well.  The 
noise  of  approaching  men  startled  him,  and  he  fled  into 
the  immediately  adjacent  jungle,  from  which  he  peered 
forth  and  saw  two  strange  men  appear.  They  came 
directly  to  the  well,  and,  by  an  iron  wheel  turning  the 
valve,  choked  down  the  flow  still  further. 

"  No  more,"  commanded  the  one  who  seemed  to  be 
leader.  "  Another  turn,  and  the  pressure  will  blow  out 
the  pipes  —  for  so  the  Gringo  engineer  has  warned  me 
most  carefully." 

And  a  slight  flow,  beyond  the  limited  safety,  continued 
to  run  from  the  mouth  of  the  gusher  down  the  mountain 
side.  Scarcely  had  the  two  men  accomplished  this,  when 
a  body  of  horsemen  rode  up,  whom  the  peon  in  hiding 
recognized  as  the  haciendado  who  owned  him  and  the 
overseers  and  haciendados  of  neighboring  plantations 
who  delighted  in  runring  down  a  fugitive  laborer  in  much 
the  same  way  that  the  English  delight  in  chasing  the  fox. 

No,  the  two  oil-men  had  seen  nobody.  But  the  hacien 
dado  who  led  saw  the  footprints  of  the  mare,  and  spurred 
his  horse  to  follow,  his  c'owd  at  his  heels. 

The  peon  waited,   smoked  his  cigarette  quite  to  the 


124  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

finish,  and  cogitated.  When  all  was  clear,  he  ventured 
forth,  turned  the  mechanism  controlling  the  well  wide 
open,  watched  the  oil  fountaining  upward  under  the  sub 
terranean  pressure  and  flowing  down  the  mountain  in  a 
veritable  river.  Also,  he  listened  to  and  noted  the  sob 
bing,  and  gasping,  and  bubbling  of  the  escaping  gas. 
This  he  did  not  comprehend,  and  all  that  saved  him  for 
his  further  adventures  was  the  fact  that  he  had  used  his 
last  match  to  light  his  cigarette.  In  vain  he  searched  his 
rags,  his  ears,  and  his  hair.  He  was  out  of  matches. 

So,  chuckling  at  the  river  of  oil  he  was  wantonly  run 
ning  to  waste,  and,  remembering  the  canon  trail  below,  he 
plunged  down  the  mountainside  and  upon  Francis,  who 
received  him  with  extended  automatic.  Down  went  the 
peon  on  his  frayed  and  frazzled  knees  in  terror  and  sup 
plication  to  the  man  he  had  twice  betrayed  that  day. 
Francis  studied  him,  at  first  without  recognition,  because 
of  the  bruised  and  lacerated  face  and  head  on  which  the 
blood  had  dried  like  a  mask. 

"  Amigo,  amigo,"  chattered  the  peon. 

But  at  that  moment,  from  below  on  the  ravine  trail, 
Francis  heard  the  clatter  of  a  stone  dislodged  by  some 
man's  foot.  The  next  moment  he  identified  what  was  left 
of  the  peon  as  the  pitiable  creature  to  whom  he  had  given 
half  the  contents  of  his  whiskey  flask.  \ 

''  Well,  amigo/'  Francis  said  in  the  native  language, 
"  it  looks  as  if  they  are  after  you." 

"  They  will  kill  me,  they  will  beat  me  to  death,  they 
are  very  angry,"  the  wretch  quavered.  '  You  are  my 
only  friend,  my  father  and  my  mother,  save  me." 

"  Can  you  shoot  ?  "  Francis  demanded. 

"  I  was  a  hunter  in  the  Cordilleras  before  I  was  sold 
into  slavery,  Senor,"  was  the  reply. 

Francis  passed  him  the  automatic,  motioned  him  to  take 
shelter,  and  told  him  not  to  fire  until  sure  of  a  hit.  And 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  125 

to  himself  he  mused :  The  golfers  are  out  on  the  links 
right  now  at  Tarrytown.  And  Mrs.  Bellingham  is  on 
the  clubhouse  veranda  wondering  how  she  is  going  to  pay 
the  three  thousand  points  she's  behind  and  praying  for 
a  change  of  luck.  And  —  here  am  I, —  Lord!  Lord! 
—  backed  up  to  a  river  of  oil.  .  .  . 

His  musing  ceased  as  abruptly  as  appeared  the  Jefe, 
Torres,  and  the  gendarmes  down  the  trail.  As  abruptly 
he  fired  his  rifle,  and  as  abruptly  they  fell  back  out  of 
sight.  He  could  not  tell  whether  he  had  hit  one,  or 
whether  the  man  had  merely  fallen  in  precipitate  retreat. 
The  pursuers  did  not  care  to  make  a  rush  of  it,  contenting 
themselves  with  bushwhacking.  Francis  and  the  peon 
did  the  same,  sheltering  behind  rocks  and  bushes  and  fre 
quently  changing  their  positions. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  the  last  cartridge  in  Francis' 
rifle  was  all  that  remained.  The  peon,  under  his  warn 
ings  and  threats,  still  retained  two  cartridges  in  the  auto 
matic.  But  the  hour  had  been  an  hour  saved  for  Leoncia 
and  her  people,  and  Francis  was  contentedly  aware  that 
at  any  moment  he  could  turn  and  escape  by  wading  across 
the  river  of  oil.  So  all  was  well,  and  would  have  been 
well,  had  not,  from  above,  come  an  eruption  of  another 
body  of  men,  who,  from  behind  trees,  fired  as  they  de 
scended.  This  was  the  haciendado  and  his  fellow 
haciendados,  in  chase  of  the  fugitive  peon  —  although 
Francis  did  not  know  it.  His  conclusion  was  that  it  was 
another  posse  that  was  after  him.  The  shots  they  fired 
at  him  were  strongly  confirmative. 

The  peon  crawled  to  his  side,  showed  him  that  two 
shots  remained  in  the  automatic  he  was  returning  to  him, 
and  impressively  begged  from  him  his  box  of  matches. 
Next,  the  peon  motioned  him  to  cross  the  bottom  of  the 
canon  and  climb  the  other  side.  With  half  a  guess  of 
the  creature's  intention,  Francis  complied,  from  his  new 


126  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

position  of  vantage  emptying  his  last  rifle  cartridge  at  the 
advancing  posse  and  sending  it  back  into  shelter  down  the 
ravine. 

The  next  moment,  the  river  of  oil  flared  into  flames 
from  where  the  peon  had  touched  a  match  to  it.  In  the 
following  moment,  clear  up  the  mountainside,  the  well 
itself  sent  a  fountain  of  ignited  gas  a  hundred  feet  into 
the  air.  And,  in  the  moment  after,  the  ravine  itself 
poured  a  torrent  of  flame  down  upon  the  posse  of  Torres 
and  the  Jefe. 

Scorched  by  the  heat  of  the  conflagration,  Francis  and 
the  peon  clawed  up  the  opposite  sides  of  the  ravine,  cir 
cled  around  and  past  the  blazing  trail,  and,  at  a  dog-trot, 
raced  up  the  recovered  trail. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHILE  Francis  and  the  peon  hurried  up  the  ravine- 
trail  in  safety,  the  ravine  itself,  below  where  the  oil  flowed 
in,  had  become  a  river  of  flame,  which  drove  the  Jefe, 
Torres,  and  the  gendarmes  to  scale  the  steep  wall  of  the 
ravine.  At  the  same  time  the  party  of  haciendados  in 
pursuit  of  the  peon  was  compelled  to  claw  back  and  up 
to  escape  out  of  the  roaring  canon. 

Ever  the  peon  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder,  until, 
with  a  cry  of  joy,  he  indicated  a  second  black-smoke 
pillar  rising  in  the  air  beyond  the  first  burning  well. 

"  More,"  he  chuckled.  "  There  are  more  wells.  They 
will  all  burn.  And  so  shall  they  and  all  their  race  pay 
for  the  many  blows  they  have  beaten  on  me.  And  there 
is  a  lake  of  oil  there,  like  the  sea,  like  Juchitan  Inlet,  it 
is  so  big." 

And  Francis  recollected  the  lake  of  oil  about  which  the 
haciendado  had  told  him  —  that,  containing  at  least  five 
million  barrels  which  could  not  yet  be  piped  to  sea  trans 
port,  lay  open  to  the  sky,  merely  in  a  natural  depression 
in  the  ground  and  contained  by  an  earth  dam. 

"How  much  are  you  worth?"  he  demanded  of  the 
peon  with  apparent  irrelevance. 

But  the  peon  could  not  understand. 

"  How  much  are  your  clothes  worth  —  all  you've  got 
on?" 

"  Half  a  peso,  nay,  half  of  a  half  peso,"  the  peon 
admittedly  ruefully,  surveying  what  was  left  of  his  tat 
tered  rags. 

"And  other  property?" 

127 


128  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

The  wretched  creature  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  token 
of  his  utter  destitution,  then  added  bitterly: 

"  I  possess  nothing  but  a  debt,  I  owe  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pesos.  I  am  tied  to  it  for  life,  damned  with 
it  for  life  like  a  man  with  a  cancer.  That  is  why  I  am  a 
slave  to  the  haciendado." 

"Huh!"  Francis  could  not  forbear  to  grin. 
"  Worth  two  hundred  and  fifty  pesos  less  than  nothing, 
not  even  a  cipher,  a  sheer  abstraction  of  a  minus  quantity 
without  existence  save  in  the  mathematical  imagination 
of  man,  and  yet  here  you  are  burning  up  not  less  than 
millions  of  pesos'  worth  of  oil.  And  if  the  strata  is 
loose  and  erratic  and  the  oil  leaks  up  outside  the  tubing, 
the  chances  are  that  the  oil-body  of  the  entire  field  is 
ignited  —  say  a  billion  dollars'  worth.  Say,  for  an  ab 
straction  enjoying  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars'  worth 
of  non-existence,  you  are  some  hombre,  believe  me." 

Nothing  of  which  the  peon  understood  save  the  word 
"  hombre." 

"  I  am  a  man,"  he  proclaimed,  thrusting  out  his  chest 
and  straightening  up  his  bruised  head.  "  I  am  a  hombre, 
and  I  am  a  Maya." 

"  Maya  Indian  —  you  ?  "  Francis  scoffed. 

"  Half  Maya,"  was  the  reluctant  admission.  "  My 
father  is  pure  Maya.  But  the  Maya  women  of  the  Cor 
dilleras  did  not  satisfy  him.  He  must  love  a  mixed- 
breed  woman  of  the  tierra  caliente.  I  was  so  born;  but 
she  afterward  betrayed  him  for  a  Barbadoes  nigger,  and 
he  went  back  to  the  Cordilleras  to  live.  And,  like  my 
father,  I  was  born  to  love  a  mixed-breed  of  the  tierra 
caliente.  She  wanted  money,  and  my  head  was  fevered 
with  want  of  her,  and  I  sold  myself  to  be  a  peon  for  two 
hundred  pesos.  And  I  saw  never  her  nor  the  money 
again.  For  five  years  I  have  been  a  peon.  For  five 
years  I  have  slaved  and  been  beaten,  and  behold,  at  the 


HEARTS   OF    THREE  129 

end  of  five  years  my  debt  is  not  two  hundred  but  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pesos." 

And  while  Francis  Morgan  and  the  long-suffering 
Maya  half-breed  plodded  on  deeper  into  the  Cordilleras 
to  overtake  their  party,  and  while  the  oil  fields  of  Juchitan 
continued  to  go  up  in  increasing  smoke,  still  farther  on, 
in  the  heart  of  the  Cordilleras,  were  preparing  other 
events  destined  to  bring  together  all  pursuers  and  all  pur 
sued  —  Francis  and  Henry  and  Leoncia  and  their  party ; 
the  peon ;  the  party  of  the  haciendados ;  and  the  gendarmes 
of  the  Jefe,  and,  along  with  them,  Alvarez  Torres,  eager 
to  win  for  himself  not  only  the  promised  reward  of 
Thomas  Regan  but  the  possession  of  Leoncia  Solano. 

In  a  cave  sat  a  man  and  a  woman.  Pretty  the  latter 
was,  and  young,  a  mestiza,  or  half  caste  woman.  By  the 
light  of  a  cheap  kerosene  lamp  she  read  aloud  from  a 
calf-bound  tome  which  was  a  Spanish  translation  of 
Blackstone.  Both  were  barefooted  and  bare-armed,  clad 
in  hooded  gabardines  of  sackcloth.  Her  hood  lay  back 
on  her  shoulders,  exposing  her  black  and  generous  head 
of  hair.  But  the  old  man's  hood  was  cowled  about  his 
head  after  the  fashion  of  a  monk.  The  face,  lofty  and 
ascetic,  beaked  with  power,  was  pure  Spanish.  Don 
Quixote  might  have  worn  precisely  a  similar  face.  But 
there  was  a  difference.  The  eyes  of  this  old  man  were 
closed  in  the  perpetual  dark  of  the  blind.  Never  could 
he  behold  a  windmill  at  which  to  tilt. 

He  sat,  while  the  pretty  mestiza  read  to  him,  listening 
and  brooding,  for  all  the  world  in  the  pose  of  Rodin's 
"  Thinker."  Nor  was  he  a  dreamer,  nor  a  tilter  of  wind 
mills,  like  Don  Quixote.  Despite  his  blindness,  that  ever 
veiled  the  apparent  face  of  the  world  in  invisibility,  he 
was  a  man  of  action,  and  his  soul  was  anything  but  blind, 
penetrating  unerringly  beneath  the  show  of  things  to  the 


I3O  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

heart  and  the  soul  of  the  world  and  reading  its  inmost  sins 
and  rapacities  and  noblenesses  and  virtues. 

He  lifted  his  hand  and  put  a  pause  in  the  reading,  while 
he  thought  aloud  from  the  context  of  the  reading. 

"  The  law  of  man,"  he  said  with  slow  certitude,  "  is 
to-day  a  game  of  wits.  Not  equity,  but  wit,  is  the  game 
of  law  to-day.  The  law  in  its  inception  was  good  ;  but  the 
way  of  the  law,  the  practice  of  it,  has  led  men  off  into 
false  pursuits.  They  have  mistaken  the  way  for  the  goal, 
the  means  for  the  end.  Yet  is  law  law,  and  necessary,  and 
good.  Only  law  in  its  practice  to-day  has  gone  astray. 
Judges  and  lawyers  engage  in  competitions  and  affrays 
of  wit  and  learning,  quite  forgetting  the  plaintiffs  and  de 
fendants,  before  them  and  paying  them,  who  are  seeking 
equity  and  justice  and  not  wit  and  learning. 

"  Yet  is  old  Blackstone  right.  Under  it  all,  at  the  bot 
tom  of  it  all,  at  the  beginning  of  the  building  of  the  edi 
fice  of  the  law,  is  the  quest,  the  earnest  and  sincere  quest 
of  righteous  men,  for  justice  and  equity.  But  what  is 
it  that  the  Preacher  said  ?  '  They  made  themselves  many 
inventions.'  And  the  law,  good  in  its  beginnings,  has 
been  invented  out  of  all  its  intent,  so  that  it  serves  neither 
litigants  nor  injured  ones,  but  merely  the  fatted  judges 
and  the  lean  and  hungry  lawyers  who  achieve  names  and 
paunches  if  they  prove  themselves  cleverer  than  their 
opponents  and  than  the  judges  who  render  decision." 

He  paused,  still  posed  as  Rodin's  "  Thinker,"  and  medi 
tated,  while  the  mestiza  woman  waited  his  customary 
signal  to  resume  the  reading.  At  last,  as  out  of  a  pro 
found  of  thought  in  which  universes  had  been  weighed 
in  the  balance,  he  spoke : 

"  But  we  have  law,  here  in  the  Cordilleras  of  Panama, 
that  is  just  and  right  and  all  of  equity.  We  work  for  no 
man  and  serve  not  even  paunches.  Sackcloth  and  not 
broadcloth  conduces  to  the  equity  of  judicial  decision. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  13! 

Read  on,  Mercedes.  Blackstone  is  always  right  if  al 
ways  rightly  read  —  which  is  what  is  called  a  paradox, 
and  is  what  modern  law  ordinarily  is,  a  paradox.  Read 
on.  Blackstone  is  the  very  foundation  of  human  law  - 
but,  oh,  how  many  wrongs  are  cleverly  committed  by 
clever  men  in  his  name !  " 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  blind  thinker  raised  his  head, 
sniffed  the  air,  and  gestured  the  girl  to  pause.  Taking 
her  cue  from  him,  she,  too,  sniffed : 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  lamp,  O  Just  One,"  she  suggested. 

"  It  is  burning  oil,"  he  said.  "  But  it  is  not  the  lamp. 
It  is  from  far  away.  Also,  have  I  heard  shooting  in  the 
canons." 

"  I  heard  nothing  —  "  she  began. 

"  Daughter,  you  who  see  have  not  the  need  to  hear 
that  I  have.  There  have  been  many  shots  fired  in  the 
canons.  Order  my  children  to  investigate  and  make 
report." 

Bowing  reverently  to  the  old  man  who  could  not  see 
but  who,  by  keen-trained  hearing  and  conscious  timing  of 
her  every  muscular  action,  knew  that  she  had  bowed,  the 
young  woman  lifted  the  curtain  of  blankets  and  passed 
out  into  the  day.  At  either  side  the  cave-mouth  sat  a 
man  of  the  peon  class.  Each  was  armed  with  rifle  and 
machete,  while  through  their  girdles  were  thrust  naked- 
bladed  knives.  At  the  girl's  order,  both  arose  and  bowed, 
not  to  her,  but  to  the  command  and  the  invisible  source 
of  the  command.  One  of  them  tapped  with  the  back  of 
his  machete  against  the  stone  upon  which  he  had  been 
sitting,  then  laid  his  ear  to  the  stone  and  listened.  In 
truth,  the  stone  was  but  the  out- jut  of  a  vein  of  metal 
liferous  ore  that  extended  across  and  through  the  heart 
of  the  mountain.  And  beyond,  on  the  opposite  slope, 
in  an  eyrie  commanding  the  magnificent  panorama  of  the 
descending  slopes  of  the  Cordilleras,  sat  another  peon  who 


132  HEARTS    OF   THREE 

first  listened  with  his  ear  pressed  to  similar  metalliferous 
quartz,  and  next  tapped  response  with  his  machete. 
After  that,  he  stepped  half  a  dozen  paces  to  a  tall  tree, 
half-dead,  reached  into  the  hollow  heart  of  it,  and  pulled 
on  the  rope  within  as  a  man  might  pull  who  was  ringing 
a  steeple  bell. 

But  no  sound  was  evoked.  Instead,  a  lofty  branch, 
fifty  feet  above  his  head,  sticking  out  from  the  main- 
trunk  like  a  semaphore  arm,  moved  up  and  down  like  the 
semaphore  arm  it  was.  Two  miles  away,  on  a  mountain 
crest,  the  branch  of  a  similar  semaphore  tree  replied. 
Still  beyond  that,  and  farther  down  the  slopes,  the  flash 
ing  of  a  hand-mirror  in  the  sun  heliographed  the  relaying 
of  the  blind  man's  message  from  the  cave.  And  all  that 
portion  of  the  Cordilleras  became  voluble  with  coded 
speech  of  vibrating  ore-veins,  sun-flashings,  and  waving 
tree-branches. 

While  Enrico  Solano,  slenderly  erect  on  his  horse  as 
an  Indian  youth  and  convoyed  on  either  side  by  his  sons, 
Alesandro  and  Ricardo,  hanging  to  his  saddle  trappings, 
made  the  best  of  the  time  afforded  them  by  Francis'  rear 
guard  battle  with  the  gendarmes,  Leoncia,  on  her  mount, 
and  Henry  Morgan,  lagged  behind.  One  or  the  other 
was  continually  glancing  back  for  the  sight  of  Francis 
overtaking  them.  Watching  his  opportunity,  Henry  took 
the  back-trail.  Five  minutes  afterward,  Leoncia,  no  less 
anxious  than  he  for  Francis'  safety,  tried  to  turn  her 
horse  about.  But  the  animal,  eager  for  the  companion 
ship  of  its  mate  ahead,  refused  to  obey  the  rein,  cut  up 
and  pranced,  and  then  deliberately  settled  into  a  balk. 
Dismounting  and  throwing  her  reins  on  the  ground  in  the 
Panamanian  method  of  tethering  a  saddle  horse,  Leoncia 
took  the  back-trail  on  foot.  So  rapidly  did  she  follow 
Henry,  that  she  was  almost  treading  on  his  heels  when  he 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  133 

encountered  Francis  and  the  peon.  The  next  moment, 
both  Henry  and  Francis  were  chiding  her  for  her  con 
duct;  but  in  both  their  voices  was  the  involuntary  ten 
derness  of  love,  which  pleased  neither  to  hear  the  other 
uttering. 

Their  hearts  more  active  than  their  heads,  they  were 
caught  in  total  surprise  by  the  party  of  haciendados  that 
dashed  out  upon  them  with  covering  rifles  from  the  sur 
rounding  jungle.  Despite  the  fact  that  they  had  thus 
captured  the  runaway  peon,  whom  they  proceeded  to  kick 
and  cuff,  all  would  have  been  well  with  Leoncia  and  the 
two  Morgans  had  the  owner  of  the  peon,  the  old-time 
friend  of  the  Solano  family,  been  present.  But  an  attack 
of  malarial  fever,  which  was  his  due  every  third  day, 
had  stretched  him  out  in  a  chill  near  the  burning  oil-field. 

Nevertheless,  though  by  their  blows  they  reduced  the 
peon  to  weepings  and  pleadings  on  his  knees,  the  hacien- 
dadoes  were  courteously  gentle  to  Leoncia  and  quite  de 
cent  to  Francis  and  Henry,  even  though  they  tied  the 
hands  of  the  latter  two  behind  them  in  preparation  for 
the  march  up  the  ravine  slope  to  where  the  horses  had 
been  left.  But  upon  the  peon,  with  Latin-American  cru 
elty,  they  continued  to  reiterate  their  rage. 

Yet  were  they  destined  to  arrive  nowhere,  by  them 
selves,  with  their  captives.  Shouts  of  joy  heralded  the 
debouchment  upon  the  scene  of  the  Jefe's  gendarmes  and 
of  the  Jefe  and  Alvarez  Torres.  Arose  at  once  the  rapid- 
fire,  staccato,  bastard-Latin  of  all  men  of  both  parties 
of  pursuers,  trying  to  explain  and  demanding  explana 
tion  at  one  and  the  same  time.  And  while  the  farrago 
of  all  talking  simultaneously  and  of  no  one  winning  any 
where  in  understanding,  made  anarchy  of  speech,  Torres, 
with  a  nod  to  Francis  and  a  sneer  of  triumph  to  Henry, 
ranged  before  Leoncia  and  bowed  low  to  her  in  true  and 
deep  hidalgo  courtesy  and  respect. 


134  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  Listen !  "  he  said,  low-voiced,  as  she  rebuffed  him 
with  an  arm  movement  of  repulsion.  "  Do  not  misun 
derstand  me.  Do  not  mistake  me.  I  am  here  to  save 
you,  and,  no  matter  what  may  happen,  to  protect  you. 
You  are  the  lady  of  my  dreams.  I  will  die  for  you  — 
yes,  and  gladly,  though  far  more  gladly  would  I  live  for 
you." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  replied  curtly.  "  I  do  not 
see  life  or  death  in  the  issue.  We  have  done  no  wrong. 
I  have  done  no  wrong,  nor  has  my  father.  Nor  has 
Francis  Morgan,  nor  has  Henry  Morgan.  Therefore, 
sir,  the  matter  is  not  a  question  of  life  or  death." 

Henry  and  Francis,  shouldering  close  to  Leoncia,  on 
either  side,  listened  and  caught  through  the  hubble-bubble 
of  many  voices  the  conversation  of  Leoncia  and  Torres. 

"  It  is  a  question  absolute  of  certain  death  by  execu 
tion  for  Henry  Morgan,"  Torres  persisted.  "  Proven 
beyond  doubt  is  his  conviction  for  the  murder  of  Alfaro 
Solano,  who  was  your  own  full-blood  uncle  and  your 
father's  own  full-blood  brother.  There  is  no  chance  to 
save  Henry  Morgan.  But  Francis  Morgan  can  I  save 
in  all  surety,  if  — 

"  If?  "  Leoncia  queried,  with  almost  the  snap  of  jaws 
of  a  she-leopard. 

"If  .  .  .  you  prove  kind  to  me,  and  marry  me,"  Torres 
said  with  magnificent  steadiness, '  although  two  Gringos, 
helpless,  their  hands  tied  behind  their  backs,  glared  at 
him  through  their  eyes  their  common  desire  for  his  im 
mediate  extinction. 

Torres,  in  a  genuine  outburst  of  his  passion,  though 
his  rapid  glances  had  assured  him  of  the  helplessness 
of  the  two  Morgans,  seized  her  hands  in  his  and 
urged : 

"  Leoncia,  as  your  husband  I  might  be  able  to  do  some 
thing  for  Henry.  Even  may  it  be  possible  for  me  to 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  135 

save  his  life  and  his  neck,  if  he  will  yield  to  leaving 
Panama  immediately." 

"  You  Spanish  dog!  "  Henry  snarled  at  him,  struggling 
with  his  tied  hands  behind  his  back  in  an  effort  to  free 
them. 

"  Gringo  cur!  "  Torres  retorted  as,  with  an  open  back 
handed  blow,  he  struck  Henry  on  the  mouth. 

On  the  instant  Henry's  foot  shot  out,  and  the  kick  in 
Torres  side  drove  him  staggering  in  the  direction  of 
Francis,  who  was  no  less  quick  with  a  kick  of  his  own. 
Back  and  forth  like  a  shuttlecock  between  the  battledores, 
Torres  was  kicked  from  one  man  to  the  other,  until  the 
gendarmes  seized  the  two  Gringos  and  began  to  beat  them 
in  their  helplessness.  Torres  not  only  urged  the  gen 
darmes  on,  but  himself  drew  a  knife;  and  a  red  tragedy 
might  have  happened  with  offended  Latin- American  blood 
up  and  raging,  had  not  a  score  or  more  of  armed  men 
silently  appeared  and  silently  taken  charge  of  the  situa 
tion.  Some  of  the  mysterious  newcomers  were  clad  in 
cotton  singlets  and  trousers,  and  others  were  in  cowled 
gabardines  of  sackcloth. 

The  gendarmes  and  haciendados  recoiled  in  fear,  cross 
ing  themselves,  muttering  prayers  and  ejaculating: 
"The  Blind  Brigand!"  "The  Cruel  Just  One!" 
"  They  are  his  people !  "  "  We  are  lost." 

But  the  much-beaten  peon  sprang  forward  and  fell  on 
his  bleeding  knees  before  a  stern-faced  man  who  appeared 
to  be  the  leader  of  the  Blind  Brigand's  men.  From  the 
mouth  of  the  peon  poured  forth  a  stream  of  loud  lamen 
tation  and  outcry  for  justice. 

'You  know  that  justice  to  which  you  appeal?"  the 
leader  spoke  gutterally. 

;<  Yes,  the  Cruel  Justice/'  the  peon  replied.  "  I  know 
what  it  means  to  appeal  to  the  Cruel  Justice,  yet  do  I 
appeal,  for  I  seek  justice  and  my  cause  is  just." 


136  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  I,  too,  demand  the  Cruel  Justice !  "  Leoncia  cried  with 
flashing  eyes,  although  she  added  in  an  undertone  to 
Francis  and  Henry :  "  Whatever  the  Cruel  Justice  is." 

"  It  will  have  to  go  some  to  be  unfairer  than  the  jus 
tice  we  can  expect  from  Torres  and  the  Jefe,"  Henry  re 
plied  in  similar  undertones,  then  stepped  forward  boldly 
before  the  cowled  leader  and  said  loudly :  "  And  I 
demand  the  Cruel  Justice." 

The  leader  nodded. 

"  Me,  too,"  Francis  murmured  low,  and  then  made 
loud  demand. 

The  gendarmes  did  not  seem  to  count  in  the  matter, 
while  the  haciendados  signified  their  willingness  to  abide 
by  whatever  justice  the  Blind  Brigand  might  mete  out  to 
them.  Only  the  Jefe  objected. 

"  Maybe  you  don't  know  who  I  am,"  he  blustered.  "  I 
am  Mariano  Vercara  e  Hijos,  of  long  illustrious  name 
and  long  and  honorable  career.  I  am  Jefe  Politico  of 
San  Antonio,  the  highest  friend  of  the  governor,  and 
high  in  the  confidence  of  the  government  of  the  Republic 
of  Panama.  I  am  the  law.  There  is  but  one  law  and 
one  justice,  which  is  of  Panama  and  not  the  Cordilleras. 
I  protest  against  this  mountain  law  you  call  the  Cruel 
Justice.  I  shall  send  an  army  against  your  Blind  Brig 
and,  and  the  buzzards  will  peck  his  bones  in  San  Juan." 

"  Remember,"  Torres  sarcastically  warned  the  irate 
Jefe,  "  that  this  is  not  San  Antonio  but  the  bush  of 
Juchitan.  Also,  you  have  no  army." 

"  Have  these  two  men  been  unjust  to  any  one  who  has 
appealed  to  the  Cruel  Justice?  "  the  leader  asked  abruptly. 

'  Yes,"  asseverated  the  peon.  "  They  have  beaten  me. 
Everybody  has  beaten  me.  They,  too,  have  beaten  me 
and  without  cause.  My  head  is  bloody.  My  body  is 
bruised  and  torn.  Again  I  appeal  to  the  Cruel  Justice, 
and  I  charge  these  two  men  with  injustice." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  137 

The  leader  nodded  and  to  his  own  men  indicated 
the  disarming  of  the  prisoners  and  the  order  of  the 
march. 

"  Justice!  —  I  demand  equal  justice!"  Henry  cried 
out.  "  My  hands  are  tied  behind  my  back.  All  hands 
should  be  so  tied,  or  no  hands  be  so  tied.  Besides,  it  is 
very  difficult  to  walk  when  one  is  so  tied." 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  drifted  the  lips  of  the  leader  as 
he  directed  his  men  to  cut  the  lashings  that  invidiously 
advertised  the  inequality  complained  of. 

"Huh!"  Francis  grinned  to  Leoncia  and  Henry. 
"  I  have  a  vague  memory  that  somewhere  around  a  mil 
lion  years  ago  I  used  to  live  in  a  quiet  little  old  burg 
called  New  York,  where  we  foolishly  thought  we  were 
the  wildest  and  wickedest  that  ever  cracked  at  a  golf  ball, 
electrocuted  an  Inspector  of  Police,  battled  with  Tam 
many,  or  bid  four  nullos  with  five  sure  tricks  in  one's 
own  hand." 

"  Huh !  "  Henry  vouchsafed  half  an  hour  later,  as  the 
trail,  from  a  lesser  crest,  afforded  a  view  of  higher  crests 
beyond.  "  Huh !  and  hell's  bells !  These  gunny-sack 
chaps  are  not  animals  or  savages.  Look,  Henry! 
They  are  semaphoring!  See  that  tree  there,  and  that 
big  one  across  the  canon.  Watch  the  branches  wave." 

Blindfolded  for  a  number  of  miles  at  the  last,  the  pris 
oners,  still  blindfolded,  were  led  into  the  cave  where  the 
Cruel  Justice  reigned.  When  the  bandages  were  re 
moved,  they  found  themselves  in  a  vast  and  lofty  cavern, 
lighted  by  many  torches,  and,  confronting  them,  a  blind 
and  white-haired  man  in  sackcloth  seated  on  a  rock-hewn 
throne,  with,  beneath  him,  her  shoulder  at  his  knees,  a 
pretty  mestiza,  a  woman. 

The  blind  man  spoke  and  in  his  voice  was  the  thin  and 
bell-like  silver  of  age  and  weary  wisdom. 


138  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  The  Cruel  Justice  has  been  invoked.  Speak !  Who 
demands  decision  and  equity?" 

All  held  back,  and  not  even  the  Jefe  could  summon 
heart  of  courage  to  protest  against  Cordilleras  law. 

"  There  is  a  woman  present,"  continued  the  Blind 
Brigand.  "  Let  her  speak  first.  All  mortal  men  and 
women  are  guilty  of  something  or  else  are  charged  by 
their  fellows  with  some  guilt." 

Henry  and  Francis  were  for  withstraining  her,  but 
with  an  equal  smile  to  them  she  addressed  the  Cruel  Just 
One  in  clear  and  ringing  tones : 

"  I  only  have  aided  the  man  I  am  engaged  to  marry  to 
escape  from  death  for  a  murder  he  did  not  commit." 

"  You  have  spoken,"  said  the  Blind  Brigand.  "  Come 
forward  to  me." 

Piloted  by  sackcloth  men,  while  the  two  Morgans  who 
loved  her  were  restless  and  perturbed,  she  was  made  to 
kneel  at  the  blind  man's  knees.  The  mestiza  girl  placed 
his  hand  on  Leoncia's  head.  For  a  full  and  solemn 
minute  silence  obtained,  while  the  steady  fingers  of  the 
E>lind  One  rested  about  her  forehead  and  registered  the 
pulse-beats  of  her  temples.  Then  he  removed  his  hand 
and  leaned  back  to  decision. 

"  Arise,  Sefiorita,"  he  pronounced.  "  Your  heart  is 
clean  of  evil.  You  go  free. —  Who  else  appeals  to  the 
Cruel  Justice?  " 

Francis  immediately  stepped  forward. 

"  I  likewise  helped  the  man  to  escape  from  an  unde 
served  death.  The  man  and  I  are  of  the  same  name, 
and,  distantly,  of  the  same  blood." 

He,  too,  knelt,  and  felt  the  soft  finger-lobes  play  deli 
cately  over  his  browrs  and  temples  and  come  to  rest 
finally  on  the  pulse  of  his  wrist. 

"  It  is  not  all  clear  to  me,"  said  the  Blind  One.     "  You 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  139 

are  not  at  rest  nor  at  peace  with  your  soul.  There  is 
trouble  within  you  that  vexes  you." 

Suddenly  the  peon  stepped  forth  and  spoke  unbidden, 
his  voice  evoking  a  thrill  as  of  the  shock  of  blasphemy 
from  the  sackcloth  men. 

"  Oh,  Just  One,  let  this  man  go,"  said  the  peon  pas 
sionately.  "  Twice  was  I  weak  and  betrayed  him  to  his 
enemy  this  day,  and  twice  this  day  has  he  protected  me 
from  my  enemy  and  saved  me." 

And  the  peon,  once  again  on  his  knees,  but  this  time  at 
the  knees  of  justice,  thrilled  and  shivered  with  supersti 
tious  awe,  as  he  felt  wander  over  him  the  light  but  firm 
finger-touches  of  the  strangest  judge  man  ever  knelt  be 
fore.  Bruises  and  lacerations  were  swiftly  explored 
even  to  the  shoulders  and  down  the  back. 

"  The  other  man  goes  free,"  the  Cruel  Just  One  an 
nounced.  '  Yet  is  there  trouble  and  unrest  within  him. 
Is  one  here  who  knows  and  will  speak  up?  " 

And  Francis  knew  on  the  instant  the  trouble  the  blind 
man  had  divined  within  him  —  the  full  love  that  burned 
in  him  for  Leoncia  and  that  threatened  to  shatter  the  full 
loyalty  he  must  ever  bear  to  Henry.  No  less  quick  was 
Leoncia  in  knowing,  and  could  the  blind  man  have  be 
held  the  involuntary  glance  of  knowledge  the  man  and 
woman  threw  at  each  other  and  the  immediate  embar 
rassment  of  averted  eyes,  he  could  have  unerringly  diag 
nosed  Francis'  trouble.  The  mestiza  girl  saw,  and  with 
a  leap  at  her  heart  scented  a  love  affair.  Likewise  had 
Henry  seen  and  unconsciously  scowled. 

The  Just  One  spoke: 

"  An  affair  of  heart  undoubtedly,"  he  dismissed  the 
matter.  "  The  eternal  vexation  of  woman  in  the  heart  of 
man.  Nevertheless,  this  man  stands  free.  Twice,  in  the 
one  day,  has  he  succored  the  man  who  twice  betrayed 


14°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

him.  Nor  has  the  trouble  within  him  aught  to  do  with 
the  aid  he  rendered  the  man  said  to  be  sentenced  to  death 
undeserved.  Remains  to  question  this  last  man;  also 
to  settle  for  this  beaten  creature  before  me  who  twice  this 
day  has  proven  weak  out  of  selfishness,  and  who  has  just 
now  proved  bravely  strong  out  of  unselfishness  for  an 
other." 

He  leaned  forward  and  played  his  fingers  searchingly 
over  the  face  and  brows  of  the  peon. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  die?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 
"  Great  and  Holy  One,  I  am  sore  afraid  to  die,"  was 
the  peon's  reply. 

1  Then  say  that  you  have  lied  about  this  man,  say  that 
his  twice  succoring  of  you  was  a  lie,  and  you  shall  live." 
Under  the  Blind  One's  fingers  the  peon  cringed  and 
wilted. 

"  Think  well,"  came  the  solemn  warning.  "  Death  is 
not  good.  To  be  forever  unmoving,  as  the  clod  and  rock, 
is  not  good.  Say  that  you  have  lied  and  life  is  yours. 
Speak!" 

But,  although  his  voice  shook  from  the  exquisiteness 
of  his  fear,  the  peon  rose  to  the  full  spiritual  stature  of 
a  man. 

"  Twice  this  day  did  I  betray  him,  Holy  One.     But  my 

name  is  not  Peter.     Not  thrice  in  this  day  will  I  betray 

him.     I  am  sore  afraid,  but  I  cannot  betray  him  thrice." 

The  blind  judge  leaned  back  and  his  face  beamed  and 

glowed  as  if  transfigured. 

"  Well  spoken,"  he  said.  "  You  have  the  makings  of 
a  man.  I  now  lay  my  sentence  upon  you :  From  now 
on,  through  all  your  days  under  the  sun,  you  shall  always 
think  like  a  man,  act  like  a  man,  be  a  man.  Better  to  die 
a  man  any  time,  than  live  a  beast  forever  in  time.  The 
Ecclesiast  was  wrong.  A  dead  lion  is  always  better  than 
a  live  dog.  Go  free,  regenerate  son,  go  free." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  14! 

But,  as  the  peon,  at  a  signal  from  the  mestiza,  started 
to  rise,  the  blind  judge  stopped  him. 

"  In  the  beginning,  O  man  who  but  this  day  has  been 
born  man,  what  was  the  cause  of  all  your  troubles?  " 

"  My  heart  was  weak  and  hungry,  O  Holy  One,  for  a 
mixed-breed  woman  of  the  tierra  caliente.  I  myself  am 
mountain  born.  For  her  I  put  myself  in  debt  to  the 
haciendado  for  the  sum  of  two  hundred  pesos.  She 
fled  with  the  money  and  another  man.  I  remained  the 
slave  of  the  haciendado,  who  is  not  a  bad  man,  but  who, 
first  and  always,  is  a  haciendado.  I  have  toiled,  been 
beaten,  and  have  suffered  for  five  long  years,  and  my 
debt  is  now  become  two  hundred  and  fifty  pesos,  and  yet 
I  possess  naught  but  these  rags  and  a  body  weak  from  in 
sufficient  food." 

"Was  she  wonderful?  —  this  woman  of  the  tierra 
caliente?  "  the  blind  judge  queried  softly. 

"  I  was  mad  for  her,  Holy  One.  I  do  not  think  now 
that  she  was  wonderful.  But  she  was  wonderful  then. 
The  fever  of  her  burned  my  heart  and  brain  and  made  a 
task-slave  of  me,  though  she  fled  in  the  night  and  I  knew 
her  never  again." 

The  peon  waited,  on  his  knees,  with  bowed  head,  while, 
to  the  amazement  of  all,  the  Blind  Brigand  sighed 
deeply  and  seemed  to  forget  time  and  place.  His  hand 
strayed  involuntarily  and  automatically  to  the  head  of  the 
mestiza,  caressed  the  shining  black  hair  and  continued  to 
caress  it  while  he  spoke. 

"  The  woman,"  he  said,  with  such  gentleness  that  his 
voice,  still  clear  and  bell-like,  was  barely  above  a  whis 
per.  "  Ever  the  woman  wonderful.  All  women  are 
wonderful  ...  to  man.  They  love  our  fathers;  they 
birth  us ;  we  love  them ;  they  birth  our  sons  to  love  their 
daughters  and  to  call  their  daughters  wonderful ;  and  this 


I42  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

has  always  been  and  shall  continue  always  to  be  until  the 
end  of  man's  time  and  man's  loving  on  earth." 

A  profound  of  silence  fell  within  the  cavern,  while  the 
Cruel  Just  One  meditated  for  a  space.  At  the  last,  with 
a  touch  dared  of  familiarity,  the  pretty  mestiza  touched 
him  and  roused  him  to  remembrance  of  the  peon  still 
crouching  at  his  feet. 

"  I  pronounce  judgment,"  he  spoke.  "  You  have  re 
ceived  many  blows.  Each  blow  on  your  body  is  quittance 
in  full  of  the  entire  debt  to  the  haciendado.  Go  free. 
But  remain  in  the  mountains,  and  next  time  love  a  moun 
tain  woman,  since  woman  you  must  have,  and  since 
woman  is  inevitable  and  eternal  in  the  affairs  of  men. 
Go  free. —  You  are  half  Maya?  " 

"  I  am  half  Maya,"  the  peon  murmured.  "  My  father 
is  a  Maya." 

"  Arise  and  go  free.  And  remain  in  the  mountains 
with  your  Maya  father.  The  tierra  caliente  is  no  place 
for  the  Cordilleras-born.  The  haciendado  is  not  pres 
ent,  and  therefore  cannot  be  judged.  And  after  all  he  is 
but  a  haciendado.  His  fellow  haciendados,  too,  go  free." 

The  Cruel  One  waited,  and,  without  waiting,  Henry 
stepped  forward. 

"  I  am  the  man,"  he  stated  boldly,  "  sentenced  to  the 
death  undeserved  for  the  killing  of  a  man  I  did  not  kill. 
He  was  the  blood-uncle  of  the  girl  I  love,  whom  I  shall 
marry  if  there  be  true  justice  here  in  this  cave  in  the 
Cordilleras." 

But  the  Jefe  interrupted. 

"  Before  a  score  of  witnesses  he  threatened  to  his 
face  to  kill  the  man.  Within  the  hour  we  found  him 
bending  over  the  man's  dead  body  that  was  yet  warm  and 
limber  with  departing  life." 

"  He  speaks  true,"  Henry  affirmed.  "  I  did  threaten 
the  man,  both  of  us  heady  from  strong  drink  and  hot 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  143 

blood.  I  was  so  found,  bending  over  his  dead  warm 
body.  Yet  did  I  not  kill  him.  Nor  do  I  know,  nor  can 
I  guess,  the  coward  hand  in  the  dark  that  knifed  out  his 
life  through  the  back  from  behind." 

"  Kneel  both  of  you,  that  I  may  interrogate  you,"  the 
Blind  Brigand  commanded. 

Long  he  interrogated  with  his  sensitive,  questioning 
fingers.  Long,  and  still  longer,  unable  to  attain  decision, 
his  fingers  played  over  the  faces  and  pulses  of  the  two 
men. 

"  Is  there  a  woman?  "  he  asked  Henry  Morgan  point 
edly. 

"  A  woman  wonderful.     I  love  her." 

"  It  is  good  to  be  so  vexed,  for  a  man  unvexed  by 
woman  is  only  half  a  man,"  the  blind  judge  vouchsafed. 
He  addressed  the  Jefe.  "  No  woman  vexes  you,  yet  are 
you  troubled.  But  this  man "  -  indicating  Henry  - 
"  I  cannot  tell  if  all  his  vexation  be  due  to  woman.  Per 
haps,  in  part,  it  may  be  due  to  you,  or  to  what  some 
prompting  of  evil  may  make  him  meditate  against  you. 
Stand  up,  both  men  of  you.  I  cannot  judge  between  you. 
Yet  is  there  the  test  infallible,  the  test  of  the  Snake  and 
the  Bird.  Infallible  it  is,  as  God  is  infallible,  for  by  such 
ways  does  God  still  maintain  truth  in  the  affairs  of  men. 
As  well  does  Blackstone  mention  just  such  methods  of 
determining  the  truth  by  trial  and  ordeal." 


CHAPTER  XI 

To  all  intents  it  might  have  been  a  tiny  bull-ring,  that 
pit  in  the  heart  of  the  Blind  Brigand's  domain.  Ten  feet 
in  depth  and  thirty  in  diameter,  with  level  floor  and  per 
pendicular  wall,  its  natural  formation  had  required  little 
work  at  the  hands  of  man  to  complete  its  symmetry. 
The  sackcloth  men,  the  haciendados,  the  gendarmes  — ; 
all  were  present,  save  for  the  Cruel  Just  One  and  the 
mestiza,  and  all  were  lined  about  the  rim  of  the  pit,  as  an 
audience,  to  gaze  down  upon  some  bullfight  or  gladia 
torial  combat  within  the  pit. 

At  command  of  the  stern-faced  leader  of  the  sackcloth 
men  who  had  captured  them,  Henry  and  Jefe  descended 
down  a  short  ladder  into  the  pit.  The  leader  and  several 
of  the  brigands  accompanied  them. 

"  Heaven  alone  knows  what's  going  to  happen,"  Henry 
laughed  up  in  English  to  Leoncia  and  Francis.  "  But  if 
it's  rough  and  tumble,  bite  and  gouge,  or  Marquis  of 
Queensbury,  or  London  Prize  Ring,  Mister  Fat  Jefe  is 
my  meat.  But  that  old  blind  one  is  clever  and  the  chances 
are  he's  going  to  put  us  at  each  other  on  some  basis  of 
evenness.  In  which  case,  do  you,  my  audience,  if  he 
gets  me  down,  stick  your  thumbs  up  and  make  all  the 
noise  you  can.  Depend  upon  it,  if  it's  he  that's  down, 
all  his  crowd  will  be  thumbs  up." 

The  Jefe,  overcome  by  the  trap  into  which  he  had  de 
scended,  in  Spanish  addressed  the  leader. 

"  I  shall  not  fight  with  this  man.  He  is  younger  than 
I,*and  has  better  wind.  Also  the  affair  is  illegal.  It  is 
not  according  to  the  law  of  the  Republic  of  Panama.  It 
is  extra-territorial  and  entirely  unjudicial." 

/     144 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  145 

"  It  is  the  Snake  and  the  Bird,"  the  leader  shut  him  off. 
"  You  shall  be  the  Snake.  This  rifle  shall  be  in  your 
hands.  The  other  man  shall  be  the  Bird.  In  his  hand 
shall  be  the  bell.  Behold!  Thus  may  you  understand 
the  ordeal." 

At  his  command,  one  of  the  brigands  was  given  the 
rifle  and  was  blindfolded.  To  another  brigand,  not 
blindfolded,  was  given  a  silver  bell. 

"  The  man  with  the  rifle  is  the  Snake,"  said  the  leader. 
"  He  has  one  shot  at  the  Bird  who  carries  the  bell." 

At  signal  to  begin,  the  bandit  with  the  bell,  tinkled  it 
at  extended  arm's  length  and  sprang  swiftly  aside.  The 
man  with  the  rifle  lowered  it  as  if  to  fire  at  the  space  just 
vacated  and  pretended  to  fire. 

"  You  understand?"  the  leader  demanded  of  Henry 
and  the  Jefe. 

The  former  nodded,  but  the  latter  cried  exultantly: 

"And  I  am  the  Snake?" 

"  You  are  the  Snake,"  affirmed  the  leader. 

And  the  Jefe  was  eager  for  the  rifle,  making  no  further 
protests  against  the  extra-territoriality  of  the  proceed 
ings. 

"  Are  you  going  to  try  to  get  me?  "  Henry  warned 
the  Jefe. 

"  No,  Senor  Morgan.  I  am  merely  going  to  get  you. 
I  am  one  of  the  two  best  shots  in  Panama.  I  have  two 
score  and  more  of  medals.  I  can  shoot  with  my  eyes 
shut.  I  can  shoot  in  the  dark.  I  have  often  shot,  and 
with  precision,  in  the  dark.  Already  may  you  count 
yourself  a  dead  man." 

Only  one  cartridge  was  put  into  the  rifle,  ere  it  was 
handed  to  the  Jefe  after  he  was  blindfolded.  Next, 
while  Henry,  equipped  with  the  tell-tale  bell,  was  stationed 
directly  across  the  pit,  the  Jefe  was  faced  to  the  wall  and 
kept  there  while  the  brigands  climbed,  out  of  the  pit  and 


14-6  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

drew  the  ladder  up  after  them.     The  leader,  from  above, 
spoke  down : 

"  Listen  carefully,  Senor  Snake,  and  make  no  move  un 
til  you  have  heard.  The"  Snake  has  but  one  shot.  The 
Snake  cannot  tamper  with  his  blindfold.  If  he  so  tam 
pers  it  is  our  duty  to  see  that  he  immediately  dies.  The 
Snake  has  no  time  limit.  He  may  take  the  rest  of  the 
day,  and  all  of  the  night,  and  the  remainder  of  eternity 
ere  he  fires  his  one  shot.  As  for  the  Bird,  the  one  rule  is 
that  never  must  the  bell  leave  his  hand,  and  never  may 
he  stop  the  clapper  of  it  from  making  the  full  noise  in 
tended  of  the  clapper  against  the  sides  of  the  bell.  Should 
he  do  so,  then  will  he  immediately  die.  We  are  here 
above  you,  both  of  you,  Senors,  rifles  in  hand,  to  see  that 
you  die  the  second  you  infract  any  of  the  rules.  And 
now,  God  be  with  the  right,  proceed !  '' 

The  Jefe  turned  slowly  about  and  listened,  while  Henry, 
essaying  gingerly  to  move  with  the  bell,  caused  it  to  tinkle. 
The  rifle  was  quick  to  bear  upon  the  sound,  and  to  pursue 
it  as  Henry  ran.  With  a  quick  shift  he  transferred  the 
bell  to  the  other  extended  hand  and  ran  back  in  the  op 
posite  direction,  the  rifle  sweeping  after  him  in  inexorable 
pursuit.  But  the  Jefe  was  too  cunning  to  risk  all  on  a 
chance  shot,  and  slowly  advanced  across  the  arena. 
Henry  stood  still,  and  the  bell  made  no  sound. 

So  unerringly  had  the  Jefe's  ear  located  the  last  silvery 
tinkle,  and  so  straightly  did  he  walk  despite  his  blindfold, 
that  he  advanced  just  to  the  right  of  Henry  and  directly 
at  the  bell.  With  infinite  caution,  provoking  no  tinkle, 
Henry  slightly  raised  his  arm  and  permitted  the  Jefe's 
head  to  go  under  the  bell  with  a  bare  inch  of  margin. 

His  rifle  pointed  and  within  a  foot  of  the  pit-wall,  the 
Jefe  halted  in  indecision,  listening  vainly  for  a  moment, 
then  made  a  further  stride  that  collided  the  rifle  muzzle. 
with  the  wall.  He  whirled  about,  and,  with  the  rifle  ex- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  H7 

tended,  like  any  blind  man  felt  out  the  air-space  for  his 
enemy.  The  muzzle  would  have  touched  Henry  had  he 
not  sprung  away  on  a  noisy  and  zig-zag  course. 

In  the  center  of  the  pit  he  came  to  a  frozen  pause.  The 
Jefe  walked  past  a  yard  to  the  side  and  collided  with  the 
opposite  wall.  He  circled  the  wall,  walking  cat-footed, 
his  rifle  forever  feeling  out  into  the  empty  air.  Next  he 
ventured  across  the  pit.  After  several  such  crossings 
during  which  the  stationary  bell  gave  him  no  clew,  he 
adopted  a  clever  method.  Tossing  his  hat  on  the  ground 
for  the  mark  of  his  starting  point,  he  crossed  the  edge  of 
the  pit  on  a  shallow  chord,  extended  the  chord  by  a  pace 
farther  along  the  wall,  and  felt  his  way  back  along  the  new 
and  longer  chord.  Again  against  the  wall,  he  verified  the 
correctness  of  the  parallelness  of  the  two  chords,  by  pacing 
back  to  his  hat.  This  time,  with  three  paces  along  the 
wall  from  the  hat,  he  initiated  his  third  chord. 

Thus  he  combed  the  area  of  the  pit,  and  Henry  saw 
that  he  could  not  escape  such  combing.  Nor  did  he  wait 
to  be  discovered.  Tinkling  the  bell  as  he  ran  and  zig 
zagged  and  exchanging  it  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  he 
froze  into  immobility  in  a  new  place. 

The  Jefe  repeated  the  laborious  combing  out  process; 
but  Henry  was  not  minded  longer  to  prolong  the  tension. 
He  waited  till  the  Jefe's  latest  chord  brought  him  directly 
upon  him.  He  waited  till  the  rifle  muzzle,  breast  high, 
was  within  half  a  dozen  inches  of  his  heart.  Then  he 
exploded  into  two  simultaneous  actions.  He  ducked 
lower  than  the  rifle  and  yelled  "  Fire!  "  in  stentorian  com 
mand. 

So  startled,  the  Jefe  pulled  the  trigger,  and  the  bullet 
sped  above  Henry's  head.  From  above,  the  sackcloth 
men  applauded  wildly.  The  Jefe  tore  off  his  blindfold 
and  saw  the  smiling  face  of  his  foe. 

"  It  is  well  —  God  has  spoken,"  enounced  the  sackcloth 


148  HEARTS    OF   THREE 

leader,  as  he  descended  into  the  pit.     "  The  man  unin 
jured  is  innocent.     Remains  now  to  test  the  other  man." 

"Me?"  the  Jefe  almost  shouted  in  his  surprise  and 
consternation. 

"  Greetings,  Jefe,"  Henry  grinned.  "  You  did  try  to 
get  me.  It's  my  turn  now.  Pass  over  that  rifle." 

But  the  Jefe,  with  a  curse,  in  his  disappointment  and 
rage  forgetting  that  the  rifle  had  contained  only  one 
cartridge,  thrust  the  muzzle,  against  Henry's  heart  and 
pulled  the  trigger.  The  hammer  fell  with  a  metallic  click. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  leader,  taking  away  the  rifle  and 
recharging  it.  '  Your  conduct  shall  be  reported.  The 
test  for  you  remains,  yet  must  it  appear  that  you  are  not 
acting  like  God's  chosen  man." 

Like  a  beaten  bull  in  the  ring  seeking  a  way  to  escape 
and  gazing  up  at  the  amphitheater  of  pitiless  faces,  so 
the  Jefe  looked  up  and  saw  only  the  rifles  of  the  sack 
cloth  men,  the  triumphing  faces  of  Leoncia  and  Francis, 
the  curious  looks  of  his  own  gendarmes,  and  the  blood- 
eager  faces  of  the  haciendados  that  were  like  the  faces 
of  any  bull-fight  audience. 

The  shadowy  smiled  drifted  the  stern  lips  of  the  leader 
as  he  handed  the  rifle  to  Henry  and  started  to  blindfold 
him. 

"  Why  don't  you  make  him  face  the  wall  until  I'm 
ready?  "  the  Jefe  demanded,  as  the  silver  bell  tinkled  in 
hi§  passion-convulsed  hand. 

"  Because  he  is  proven  God's  man,"  was  the  reply. 
"  He  has  stood  the  test.  Therefore  he  cannot  do  a  treach 
erous  deed.  You  now  must  stand  the  test  of  God.  If 
you  are  true  and  honest,  no  harm  can  befall  you  from  the 
Snake.  For  such  is  God's  way." 

Far  more  successful  as  the  hunter  than  as  the  hunted 
one,  did  the  Jefe  prove.  Across  the  pit  from  Henry,  he 
strove  to  stand  motionless;  but  out  of  nervousness,  as 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  149 

Henry's  rifle  swept  around  him,  his  hand  trembled  and  the 
bell  tinkled.  The  rifle  came  almost  to  rest  and  wavered 
ominously  about  the  sound.  In  vain  the  Jefe  tried  to  con 
trol  his  flesh  and  still  the  bell. 

But  the  bell  tinkled  on,  and,  in  despair,  he  flung  it  away 
and  threw  himself  on  the  ground.  But  Henry,  follow 
ing  the  sound  of  his  enemy's  fall,  lowered  the  rifle  and 
pulled  the  trigger.  The  Jefe  yelled  out  in  sharp  pain  as 
the  bullet  perforated  his  shoulder,  rose  to  his  feet,  cursed, 
sprawled  back  on  the  ground,  and  lay  there  cursing. 

Again  in  the  cave,  writh  the  mestiza  beside  him  at  his 
knee,  the  Blind  Brigand  gave  judgment. 

"  This  man  who  is  wounded  and  who  talks  much  of  the 
law  of  the  tierra  caliente,  shall  now  learn  Cordilleras  law. 
By  the  test  of  the  Snake  and  the  Bird  has  he  been  proven 
guilty.  For  his  life  a  ransom  of  ten  thousand  dollars 
gold  shall  be  paid,  or  else  shall  he  remain  here,  a  hewer  of 
wood  and  a  carrier  of  water,  for  the  remainder  of  the  time 
God  shall  grant  him  to  draw  breath  on  earth.  I  have 
spoken,  and  I  know  that  my  voice  is  God's  voice,  and  I 
know  that  God  will  not  grant  him  long  to  draw  breath 
if  the  ransom  be  not  forthcoming." 

A  long  silence  obtained,  during  which  even  Henry,  who 
could  slay  a  foe  in  the  heat  of  combat,  advertised  that 
such  cold-blooded  promise  of  murder  was  repugnant  to 
him. 

"  The  law  is  pitiless,"  said  the  Cruel  Just  One ;  and 
again  silence  fell. 

"  Let  him  die  for  want  of  a  ransom,"  spoke  one  of  the 
haciendados.  "  He  has  proved  a  treacherous  dog.  Let 
him  die  a  dog's  death." 

"  What  say  you  ?  "  the  Blind  Brigand  asked  solemnly. 
"  What  say  you,  peon  of  the  many  beatings,  man  new 
born  this  day,  half-Maya  that  you  are  and  lover  of  the 


15°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

woman  wonderful?     Shall  this  man  die  the  dog's  death 
for  want  of  a  ransom?  " 

'  This  man  is  a  hard  man,"  spoke  the  peon.  "  Yet  is 
my  heart  strangely  soft  this  day.  Had  I  ten  thousand 
gold  I  would  pay  his  ransom  myself.  Yea,  O  Holy  One 
and  Just,  and  had  I  two  hundred  and  fifty  pesos,  even 
would  I  pay  off  my  debt  to  the  haciendado  of  which  I  am 
absolved." 

The  old  man's  blind  face  lighted  up  to  transfiguration. 
'  You,  too,  speak  with  God's  voice  this  day,   regen 
erate  one,"  he  approved. 

But  Francis,  who  had  been  scribbling  hurriedly  in  his 
check  book,  handed  a  check,  still  wet  with  the  ink,  to  the 
mestiza. 

"  I,  too,  speak,"  he  said.  "  Let  not  the  man  die  the 
dog's  death  he  deserves,  proven  treacherous  hound  that  he 
is." 

The  mestiza  read  the  check  aloud. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  explain,"  the  Blind  Brigand 
shut  Francis  off.  "  I  am  a  creature  of  reason,  and  have 
not  lived  always  in  the  Cordilleras.  I  was  trained  in  busi 
ness  in  Barcelona.  I  know  the  Chemical  National  Bank 
of  New  York,  and  through  my  agents  have  had  dealings 
with  it  aforetime.  The  sum  is  for  ten  thousand  dollars 
gold.  This  man  who  writes  it  has  told  the  truth  already 
this  day.  The  check  is  good.  Further,  I  know  he  will 
not  stop  payment.  This  man  who  thus  pays  the  ransom 
of  a  foe  is  one  of  three  things :  a  very  good  man;  a  fool; 
or  a  very  rich  man.  Tell  me,  O  Man,  is  there  a  woman 
wonderful?  " 

And  Francis,  not  daring  to  glance  to  right  or  left,  at 
Leoncia  or  Henry,  but  gazing  straight  before  him  on  the 
Blind  Brigand's  face,  answered  because  he  felt  he  must  so 
answer : 

"  Yes,  O  Cruel  Just  One,  there  is  a  woman  wonderful." 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  the  precise  spot  where  they  had  been  first  blind 
folded  by  the  sackcloth  men,  the  cavalcade  halted.  It 
was  composed  of  a  number  of  the  sackcloth  men;  of 
Leoncia,  Henry,  and  Francis,  blindfolded  and  mounted 
on  mules;  and  of  the  peon,  blindfolded  and  on  foot. 
Similarly  escorted,  the  haciendados,  and  the  Jefe  and 
Torres  with  their  gendarmes,  had  preceded  by  half  an 
hour. 

At  permission  given  by  the  stern-faced  leader,  the  cap 
tives,  about  to  be  released,  removed  their  blindfolds. 

"  Seems  I've  been  here  before,"  Henry  laughed,  look 
ing  about  and  identifying  the  place. 

"  Seems  the  oil-wells  are  still  burning,"  Francis  said, 
pointing  out  half  the  field  of  day  that  was  eaten  up  by 
the  black  smoke-pall.  "  Peon,  look  upon  your  handi 
work.  For  a  man  who  possesses  nothing,  you  are  the 
biggest  spender  I  ever  met.  I  have  heard  of  drunken  oil- 
kings  lighting  cigars  with  thousand  dollar  bank-notes,  but 
here  are  you  burning  up  a  million  dollars  a  minute. 

"  I  am  not  a  poor  man,"  the  peon  boasted  in  proud 
mysteriousness. 

"  A  millionaire  in  disguise !  "  Henry  twitted. 

"  Where  do  you  deposit?  "  was  Leoncia's  contribution. 
"  In  the  Chemical  National  Bank?  " 

The  peon  did  not  understand  the  allusions,  but  knew 
that  he  was  being  made  fun  of,  and  drew  himself  up  in 
proud  silence. 

The  stern  leader  spoke: 

"  From  this  point  you  may  now, go  your  various  ways. 
The  Just  One  has  so  commanded.  You,  seiiors,  will  dis- 

151 


152  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

mount  and  turn  over  to  me  your  mules.  As  for  the 
senorita,  she  may  retain  her  mule  as  a  present  from  the 
Just  One,  who  would  not  care  to  be  responsible  for  com 
pelling  any  senorita  to  walk.  The  two  seriors,  without 
hardship,  may  walk.  Especially  has  the  Just  One  recom 
mended  walking  for  the  rich  serior.  The  possession  of 
riches,  he  advised,  leads  to  too  little  walking.  Too  little 
walking  leads  to  stoutness ;  and  stoutness  does  not  lead  to 
the  woman  wonderful.  Such  is  the  wisdom  of  the  Just 
One. 

"  Further,  he  has  repeated  his  advice  to  the  peon  to 
remain  in  the  mountains.  In  the  mountains  he  will  find 
his  woman  wonderful,  since  woman  he  must  have;  and  it 
is  wisest  that  such  woman  be  of  his  own  breed.  The 
women  of  the  tierra  caliente  are  for  the  men  of  the  tierra 
caliente.  The  Cordilleras  women  are  for  the  Cordilleras 
men.  God  dislikes  mixed  breeds.  A  mule  is  abhorrent 
under  the  sun.  The  world  was  not  intended  for  mixed 
breeds,  but  man  has  made  for  himself  many  inventions. 
Pure  races  interbred  leads  to  impurity.  Neither  will  oil 
nor  water  congenially  intermingle.  Since  kind  begets 
kind,  only  kind  should  mate.  Such  are  the  words  of  the 
Just  One  which  I  have  repeated  as  commanded.  And 
he  has  especially  impressed  upon  me  to  add  that  he  knows 
whereof  he  speaks,  for  he,  too,  has  sinned  in  just  such 
ways." 

And  Henry  and  Francis,  of  Anglo-Saxon  stock,  and 
Leoncia  of  the  Latin,  knew  perturbation  and  embarrass 
ment  as  the  vicarious  judgment  of  the  Blind  Brigand  sank 
home.  And  Leoncia,  with  her  splendid  eyes  of  woman, 
would  have  appealed  protest  to  either  man  she  loved,  had 
the  other  been  absent;  while  both  Henry  and  Francis 
would  have  voiced  protest  to  Leoncia  had  either  of  them 
been  alone  with  her.  And  yet,  under  it  all,  deep  down, 
uncannily,  was  a  sense  of  the  correctness  of  the  Blind 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  153 

Brigand's  thought.     And  heavily,  on  the  heart  of  each, 
rested  the  burden  of  the  conscious  oppression  of  sin. 

A  crashing  and  scrambling  in  the  brush  diverted  their 
train  of  thought,  as  descending  the  canyon  slope  on  des 
perately  slipping  and  sliding  horses,  appeared  on  the  scene 
the  haciendado  with  several  followers.  His  greeting  of 
the  daughter  of  the  Solanos  was  hildago-like  and  pro 
found,  and  only  less  was  the  heartiness  of  his  greeting  to 
the  two  men  for  whom  Enrico  Solano  had  stood  sponsor. 

"  Where  is  your  noble  father?  "  he  asked  Leoncia.  "  I 
have  good  news  for  him.  In  the  week  since  I  last  saw 
you,  I  have  been  sick  with  fever  and  encamped.  But  by 
swift  messengers,  and  favoring  winds  across  Chiriqui 
Lagoon  to  Bocas  del  Toro,  I  have  used  the  government 
wireless  —  the  Jefe  of  Bocas  del  Toro  is  my  f riend - 
and  have  communicated  with  the  President  of  Panama  — 
who  is  my  ancient  comrade  whose  nose  I  rubbed  as  often 
in  the  dirt  as  did  he  mine  in  the  boyhood  days  when  we 
were  schoolmates  and  cubicle-mates  together  at  Colon. 
And  the  word  has  come  back  that  all  is  well ;  that  justice 
has  miscarried  in  the  court  at  San  Antonio  from  the  too 
great  but  none  the  less  worthy  zeal  of  the  Jefe  Politico; 
and  that  all  is  forgiven,  pardoned,  and  forever  legally  and 
politically  forgotten  against  all  of  the  noble  Solano  family 
and  their  two  noble  Gringo  friends  — 

Here,  the  haciendado  bowed  low  to  Henry  and  Francis. 
And  here,  skulking  behind  Leoncia's  mule,  his  eyes 
chanced  to  light  on  the  peon;  and,  so  lighting,  his  eyes 
blazed  with  triumph. 

"Mother  of  God,  Thou  hast  not  forgotten  me!"  he 
breathed  fervently,  then  turned  to  the  several  friends  who 
accompanied  him.  '  There  he  is,  the  creature  without 
reason  or  shame  who  had  fled  his  debt  of  me.  Seize  him ! 
I  shall  put  him  on  his  back  for  a  month  from  the  beating 
he  shall  receive!  " 


154  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

So  speaking,  the  haciendado  sprang  around  the  rump 
of  Leoncia's  mule ;  and  the  peon,  ducking  under  the  mule's 
nose,  would  have  won  to  the  freedom  of  the  jungle,  had 
not  another  of  the  haciendados,  with  quick  spurs  to  his 
horse's  sides,  cut  him  off  and  run  him  down.  In  a  trice, 
used  to  just  such  work,  the  haciendados  had  the  luckless 
wight  on  his  feet,  his  hands  tied  behind  him,  a  lead-rope 
made  fast  around  his  neck. 

In  one  voice  Francis  and  Henry  protested. 

"  Sefiors,"  the  haciendado  replied,  "  my  respect  and  con 
sideration  and  desire  to  serve  you  are  as  deep  as  for  the 
noble  Solano  Family  under  whose  protection  you  are. 
Your  safety  and  comfort  are  sacred  to  me.  I  will  defend 
you  from  harm  with  my  life.  I  am  yours  to  command. 
My  hacienda  is  yours,  likewise  all  I  possess.  But  this 
matter  of  this  peon  is  entirely  another  matter.  He  is 
none  of  yours.  He  is  my  peon,  in  m\  debt,  who  has  run 
away  from  my  hacienda.  You  will  understand  and  for 
give  me,  I  trust.  This  is  a  mere  matter  of  property.  He 
is  my  property." 

Henry  and  Francis  glanced  at  each  other  in  mutual  per 
plexity  and  indecision.  It  was  the  law  of  the  land,  as 
they  thoroughly  knew. 

"  The  Cruel  Just  One  did  remit  my  debt,  as  all  here 
will  witness,"  the  peon  whimpered. 

"  It  is  true,  the  Cruel  Justice  remitted  his  debt,"  Leon- 
cia  verified. 

The  haciendado  smiled  and  bowed  low. 

"  But  the  peon  contracted  with  me,"  he  smiled.  "  And 
who  is  the  Blind  Brigand  that  his  foolish  law  shall  oper 
ate  on  my  plantation  and  rob  me  of  my  rightful  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pesos?  " 

"  He's  right,  Leoncia,"  Henry  admitted. 

"  Then  will  I  go  back  to  the  high  Cordilleras,"  the  peon 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  155 

asserted.  "  Oh,  you  men  of  the  Cruel  Just  One,  take  me 
back  to  the  Cordilleras." 

But  the  stern  leader  shook  his  head. 

"  Here  you  were  released.  Our  orders  went  no  fur 
ther.  No  further  jurisdiction  have  we  over  you.  We 
shall  now  bid  farewell  and  depart." 

"  Hold  on !  "  Francis  cried,  pulling  out  his  check  book 
and  beginning  to  write.  "  Wait  a  moment.  I  must 
settle  for  this  peon  now.  Next,  before  you  depart,  I 
have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

He  passed  the  check  to  the  haciendado,  saying : 

"  I  have  allowed  ten  pesos  for  the  exchange." 

The  haciendado  glanced  at  the  check,  folded  it  away  in 
his  pocket,  and  placed  the  end  of  the  rope  around  the 
wretched  creature's  neck  in  Francis'  hand. 

"  The  peon  is  now  yours,"  he  said. 

Francis  looked  at  the  rope  and  laughed. 

"  Behold !  I  now  own  a  human  chattel.  -  Slave, 
you  are  mine,  my  property  now,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sefior,"  the  peon  muttered  humbly.  "  It  seems, 
when  I  became  mad  for  the  woman  I  gave  up  my  freedom' 
for,  that  God  destined  me  always  afterward  to  be  the 
property  of  some  man.  The  Cruel  Just  One  is  right.  It 
is  God's  punishment  for  mating  outside  my  race." 

"  You  made  a  slave  of  yourself  for  what  the  world  has 
always  considered  the  best  of  all  causes,  a  woman," 
.Francis  observed,  cutting  the  thongs  that  bound  the  peon's 
hands.  "  And  so,  I  make  a  present  of  you  to  yourself." 
So  saying,  he  placed  the  neck-rope  in  the  peon's  hand. 
"  Henceforth,  lead  yourself,  and  put  not  that  rope  in 
any  man's  hand." 

While  the  foregoing  had  been  taking  place,  a  lean  old 
man,  on  foot,  had  noiselessly  joined  the  circle.  Maya 
Indian  he  was,  pure-blooded,  with  ribs  that  corrugated 


156  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

plainly  through  his  parchment-like  skin.  Only  a  breech- 
clout  covered  his  nakedness.  His  unkempt  hair  hung  in 
dirty-gray  tangles  about  his  face,  which  was  high-cheeked 
and  emaciated  to  cadaverousness.  Strings  of  muscles 
showed  for  his  calves  and  biceps.  A  few  scattered  snags 
of  teeth  were  visible  between  his  withered  lips.  The  hol 
lows  under  his  cheek-bones  were  prodigious.  While  his 
eyes,  beads  of  black,  deep-sunk  in  their  sockets,  burned 
with  the  wild  light  of  a  patient  in  fever. 

He  slipped  eel-like  through  the  circle  and  clasped  the 
peon  in  his  skeleton-like  arms. 

"  He  is  my  father,"  proclaimed  the  peon  proudly. 
"  Look  at  him.  He  is  pure  Maya,  and  he  knows  the 
secrets  of  the  Mayas." 

And  while  the  two  reunited  ones  talked  endless  explana 
tions,  Francis  preferred  his  request  to  the  sackcloth  leader 
to  find  Enrico  Solano  and  his  two  sons,  wandering  some 
where  in  the  mountains,  and  to  tell  them  that  they  were 
free  of  all  claims  of  the  law  and  to  return  home. 

"They  have  done  no  wrong?"  the  leader  demanded. 

"  No ;  they  have  done  no  wrong,"  Francis  assured  him. 

'Then  it  is  well.  I  promise  you  to  find  them  im 
mediately,  for  we  know  the  direction  of  their  wandering, 
and  to  send  them  down  to  the  coast  to  join  you." 

"  And  in  the  meantime  shall  you  be  my  guests  while 
you  wait,"  the  haciendado  invited  eagerly.  "  There  is  a 
freight  schooner  at  anchor  in  Juchitan  Inlet  now  off  my 
plantation,  and  sailing  for  San  Antonio.  I  can  hold  her 
until  the  noble  Enrico  and  his  sons  come  down  from  the 
Cordilleras." 

"  And  Francis  will  pay  the  demurrage,  of  course," 
Henry  interpolated  with  a  sly  sting  that  Leoncia  caught, 
although  it  missed  Francis,  who  cried  joyously : 

"Of  course  I  will.  And  it  proves  my  contention  that 
a  checkbook  is  pretty  good^  to  have  anywhere." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  157 

To  their  surprise,  when  they  had  parted  from  the  sack 
cloth  men,  the  peon  and  his  Indian  father  attached  them 
selves  to  the  Morgans,  and  journeyed  down  through  the 
burning  oil-fields  to  the  plantation  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  the  peon's  slavery.  Both  father  and  son  were 
unremitting  in  their  devotion,  first  of  all  to  Francis,  and, 
next,  to  Leoncia  and  Henry.  More  than  once  they  noted 
father  and  son  in  long  and  earnest  conversations ;  and, 
after  Enrico  and  his  sons  had  arrived,  \vhen  the  party 
went  down  to  the  beach  to  board  the  waiting  schooner, 
the  peon  and  his  Maya  parent  followed  along.  Francis 
essayed  to  say  farewell  to  them  on  the  beach,  but  the  peon 
stated  that  the  pair  of  them  were  likewise  journeying  on 
the  schooner. 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  wras  not  a  poor  man,"  the  peon 
explained,  after  they  had  drawn  the  party  aside  from 
the  waiting  sailors.  "  This  is  true.  The  hidden  treasure 
of  the  Mayas,  which  the  conquistadores  and  the  priests  of 
the  Inquisition  could  never  find,  is  in  my  keeping.  Or,  to 
be  very  true,  it  is  in  my  father's  keeping.  He  is  the 
descendant,  in  the  straight  line,  from  the  ancient  high 
priest  of  the  Mayas.  He  is  the  last  high  priest.  He  and 
I  have  talked  much  and  long.  And  \ve  are  agreed  that 
riches  do  not  make  life  You  bought  me  for  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  pesos,  yet  you  made  me  free,  gave  me  back 
to  myself.  The  gift  of  a  man's  life  is  greater  than  all  the 
treasure  in  the  world.  So  are  we  agreed,  my  father  and 
I.  And  so,  since  it  is  the  way  of  Gringos  and  Spaniards 
to  desire  treasure,  we  will  lead  you  to  the  Maya  treasure, 
my  father  and  I,  my  father  knowing  the  way.  And  the 
way  into  the  mountains  begins  from  San  Antonio  and  not 
from  Juchitan." 

"  Does  your  father  know  the  location  of  the  treasure? 
—  just  where  it  is?"  Henry  demanded  —  with  an  aside 
to  Francis  that  this  was  the  very  Maya  treasure  that  had 


158  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

led  him  to  abandon  the  quest  for  Morgan's  gold  on  the 
Calf  and  to  take  to  the  mainland. 

The  peon  shook  his  head. 

"  My  father  has  never  been  to  it.  He  was  not  inter 
ested  in  it,  caring  not  for  wealth  for  himself.  —  Father, 
bring  forth  the  tale  written  in  our  ancient  language  which 
you  alone  of  living  Mayas  can  read." 

From  within  his  loin-cloth  the  old  man  drew  forth  a 
dirty  and  much- frayed  canvas  bag.  Out  of  this  he  pulled 
what  looked  like  a  snarl  of  knotted  strings.  But  the 
strings  were  twisted  sennit  of  some  fibrous  forest  bark, 
so  ancient  that  they  threatened  to  crumble  as  he  handled 
them,  while  from  under  the  touch  and  manipulation  of 
his  fingers  a  fine  powder  of  decay  arose.  Muttering  and 
mumbling  prayers  in  the  ancient  Maya  tongue,  he  held  up 
the  snarl  of  knots,  and  bowed  reverently  before  it  ere  he 
shook  it  out. 

"  The  knot-writing,  the  lost  written  language  of  the 
Mayas,"  Henry  breathed  softly.  "  This  is  the  real  thing, 
if  only  the  old  geezer  hasn't  forgotten  how  to  read  it." 

All  heads  bent  curiously  toward  it  as  it  was  handed  to 
Francis.  It  was  in  the  form  of  a  crude  tassel,  composed 
of  many  thin,  long  strings.  Not  alone  were  the  knots, 
and  various  kinds  of  knots,  tied  at  irregular  intervals  in 
the  strings,  but  the  strings  themselves  were  of  varying 
lengths  and  diameters.  He  ran  them  through  his  fingers, 
mumbling  and  muttering. 

"  He  reads,"  cried  the  peon  triumphantly.  "  All  our 
old  language  is  there  in  those  knots,  and  he  reads  them  as 
any  man  may  read  a  book." 

Bending  closer  to  observe,  Francis'  and  Leoncia's  hair 
touched,  and,  in  the  thrill  of  the  immediately  broken  con 
tact,  their  eyes  me-t,  producing  the  second  thrill  as  they 
separated.  But  Henry,  all  eagerness,  did  not  observe. 
He  had  eyes  only  for  the  mystic  tassel. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  159 

"  What  d'you  say,  Francis  ?  "  he  murmured.  "  It's 
big!  It's  big!" 

"  But  New  York  is  beginning  to  call,"  Francis  de 
murred.  "  Oh,  not  its  people  and  its  fun,  but  its  busi 
ness,"  he  added  hastily,  as  he  sensed  Leoncia's  unuttered 
reproach  and  hurt.  "  Don't  forget,  I'm  mixed  up  in 
Tampico  Petroleum  and  the  stock  market,  and  I  hate  to 
think  how  many  millions  are  involved." 

"Hell's  bells!"  Henry  ejaculated.  "  The  Maya 
treasure,  if  a  tithe  of  what  they  say  about  its  immensity  be 
true,  could  be  cut  three  ways  between  Enrico,  you  and 
me,  and  make  each  of  us  richer  than  you  are  now." 

Still  Francis  was  undecided,  and,  while  Enrico  expand 
ed  on  the  authenticity  of  the  treasure,  Leoncia  managed 
to  query  in  an  undertone  in  Francis'  ear : 

"  Have  you  so  soon  tired  of  ...  of  treasure-hunt- 
ing?" 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  and  down  at  her  engagement 
ring,  as  he  answered  in  the  same  low  tones : 

"  How  can  I  stay  longer  in  this  country,  loving  you 
as  I  do,  while  you  love  Henry?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  openly  avowed  his  love, 
and  Leoncia  knew  the  swift  surge  of  joy,  followed  by  the 
no  less  swift  surge  of  mantling  shame  that  she,  a  woman 
who  had  always  esteemed  herself  good,  could  love  two 
men  at  the  same  time.  She  glanced  at  Henry,  as  if  to 
verify  her  heart,  and  her  heart  answered  yes.  As  truly 
did  she  love  Henry  as  she  did  Francis,  and  the  emotion 
seemed  similar  where  the  two  were  similar,  different 
where  they  were  different. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  connect  up  with  the  Angelique, 
most  likely  at  Bocas  del  Toro,  and  get  away,"  Francis  told 
Henry.  "  You  and  Enrico  can  find  the  treasure  and  split 
it  two  ways." 


l6o  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

But  the  peon,  having  heard,  broke  into  quick  speech 
with  his  father,  and,  next,  with  Henry. 

:t  You  hear  what  he  says,  Francis,"  the  latter  said,  hold 
ing  up  the  sacred  tassel.  "  You've  got  to  go  with  us.  It 
is  you  he  feels  grateful  to  for  his  son.  He  isn't  giving 
the  treasure  to  us,  but  to  you.  And  if  you  don't  go,  he 
won't  read  a  knot  of  the  writing." 

But  it  was  Leoncia,  looking  at  Francis  with  quiet  wist- 
fulness  of  pleading,  seeming  all  but  to  say,  "  Please,  for 
my  sake,"  who  really  caused  Francis  to  reverse  his  de 
cision. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  WEEK  later,  out  of  San  Antonio  on  a  single  day,  three 
separate  expeditions  started  for  the  Cordilleras.  The 
first,  mounted  on  mules,  was  composed  of  Henry,  Francis, 
the  peon  and  his  ancient  parent,  and  of  several  of  the 
Solano  peons,  each  leading  a  pack-mule,  burdened  with 
supplies  and  outfit.  Old  Enrico  Solano,  at  the  last  mo 
ment,  had  been  prevented  from  accompanying  the  party 
because  of  the  bursting  open  of  an  old  wound  received  in 
the  revolutionary  fighting  of  his  youth. 

Up  the  main  street  of  San  Antonio  the  cavalcade  pro 
ceeded,  passing  the  jail,  the  wall  of  which  Francis  had 
dynamited  and  which  was  only  even  then  being  tardily 
rebuilt  by  the  Jefe's  prisoners.  Torres,  sauntering  down 
the  street,  the  latest  wire  from  Regan  tucked  in  his 
pocket,  saw  the  Morgan  outfit  with  surprise. 

"Whither  away,  senors?"  he  called. 

So  spontaneous  that  it  might  have  been  rehearsed, 
Francis  pointed  to  the  sky,  Henry  straight  down  at  the 
earth,  the  peon  to  the  right,  and  his  father  to  the  left. 
The  curse  from  Torres  at  such  impoliteness,  caused  all  to 
burst  into  laughter,  in  which  the  mule-peons  joined  as 
they  rode  along. 

Within  the  morning,  at  the  time  of  the  siesta  hour,  while 
all  the  town  slept,  Torres  received  a  second  surprise. 
This  time  it  was  the  sight  of  Leoncia  and  her  youngest 
brother,  Ricardo,  on  mules,  leading  a  third  that  was  evi 
dently  loaded  with  a  camping  outfit. 

The  third  expedition  was  Torres'  own,  neither  more  nor 
less  meager  than  Leoncia's,  for  it  was  composed  only  of 
himself  and  one,  Jose  Mancheno,  a  notorious  murderer 

161 


1 62  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

of  the  place  whom  Torres,  for  private  reasons,  had  saved 
from  the  buzzards  of  San  Juan.  But  Torres'  plans,  in 
the  matter  of  an  expedition,  were  more  ambitious  than 
they  appeared.  Not  far  up  the  slopes  of  the  Cordilleras 
dwelt  the  strange  tribe  of  the  Caroos.  Originally  found 
ed  by  run-away  negro  slaves  of  Africa  and  Carib  slaves 
of  the  Mosquito  Coast,  the  renegades  had  perpetuated 
themselves  with  stolen  women  of  the  tierra  caliente  and 
with  fled  women  slaves  like  themselves.  Between  the 
Mayas  beyond,  and  the  government  of  the  coast,  this 
unique  colony  had  maintained  itself  in  semi-independence. 
Added  to,  in  later  days,  by  run-away  Spanish  prisoners, 
the  Caroos  had  become  a  hotchpotch  of  bloods  and  breeds, 
possessing  a.name  and  a  taint  so  bad  that  the  then  govern 
ing  power  of  Colombia,  had  it  not  been  too  occupied  with 
its  own  particular  political  grafts,  would  have  sent  armies 
to  destroy  the  pest-hole.  And  in  this  pest-hole  of  the 
Caroos  Jose  Mancheno  had  been  born  of  a  Spanish- 
murderer  father  and  a  mestiza-murderess  mother.  And 
to  this  pest-hole  Jose  Mancheno  was  leading  Torres  in 
order  that  the  commands  of  Thomas  Regan  of  Wall  Street 
might  be  carried  out. 

"  Lucky  we  found  him  when  we  did,"  Francis  told 
Henry,  as  they  rode  at  the  rear  of  the  last  Maya  priest. 

"  He's  pretty  senile,"  Henry  nodded.     "  Look  at  him." 

The  old  man,  as  he  led  the  way,  was  forever  pulling  out 
the  sacred  tassel  and  mumbling  and  muttering  as  he  fin 
gered  it. 

"  Hope  the  old  gentleman  doesn't  wear  it  out,"  was 
Henry's  fervent  wish.  "  You'd  think  he'd  read  the  direc 
tions  once  and  remember  them  for  a  little  while  instead 
of  continually  pawing  them  over." 

They  rode  out  through  the  jungle  into  a  clear  space 
that  looked  as  if  at  some  time  man  had  hewn  down  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  163 

jungle  and  fought  it  back.  Beyond,  by  the  vista  afforded 
by  the  clearingv  the  mountain  called  Blanco  Rovalo  tow 
ered  high  in  the  sunny  sky.  The  old  Maya  halted  his 
mule,  ran  over  certain  strings  in  the  tassel,  pointed  at  the 
mountain,  and  spoke  in  broken  Spanish : 

"  It  says :  In  the  foot-steps  of  the  God  wait  till  the  eyes 
of  Chia  Hash!' 

He  indicated  the  particular  knots  of  a  particular  string 
as  the  source  of  his  information. 

"Where  are  the  footsteps,  old  Priest?"  Henry  de 
manded,  staring  about  him  at  the  unbroken  sward. 

But  the  old  man  started  his  mule,  and,  with  a  tattoo  of 
bare  heels  on  the  creature's  ribs,  hastened  it  across  the 
clearing  and  into  the  jungle  beyond. 

"  He's  like  a  hound  on  the  scent,  and  it  looks  as  if  the 
scent  is  getting  hot,"  Francis  remarked. 

At  the  end  of  half  a  mile,  where  the  jungle  turned  to 
grass-land  on  swift-rising  slopes,  the  old  man  forced  his 
mule  into  a  gallop  which  he  maintained  until  he  reached 
a  natural  depression  in  the  ground.  Three  feet  or  more 
in  depth,  of  area  sufficient  to  accommodate  a  dozen  per 
sons  in  comfort,  its  form  was  strikingly  like  that  which 
some  colossal  human  foot  could  have  made. 

"  The  foot-step  of  the  God,"  the  old  priest  proclaimed 
solemnly,  ere  he  slid  off  his  mule  and  prostrated  himself 
in  prayer.  "  In  the  foot-step  of  the  God  must  we  wait 
till  the  eyes  of  Chia  Hash  —  so  say  the  sacred  knots." 

"  Pretty  good  place  for  a  meal,"  Henry  vouchsafed, 
looking  down  into  the  depression.  "  While  waiting  for 
the  mumbo- jumbo  foolery  to  come  off,  we  might  as  well 
stay  our  stomachs." 

"If  Chia  doesn't  object,"  laughed  Francis. 

And  Chia,  did  not  object,  at  least  the  old  priest  could 
not  find  any  objection  written  in  the  knots. 

While  the  mules  were  being  tethered  on  the  edge  of  the 


1 64  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

first  break  of  woods,  water  was  fetched  from  a  nearby 
spring  and  a  fire  built  in  the  foot-step.  The  old  Maya 
seemed  oblivious  to  everything,  as  he  mumbled  endless 
prayers  and  ran  the  knots  over  and  over. 

"If  only  he  doesn't  blow  up,"  Francis  said. 

"  I  thought  he  was  wild-eyed  the  first  day  we  met  him 
up  in  Juchitan,"  concurred  Henry.  "  But  it's  nothing  to 
the  way  his  eyes  are  now." 

Here  spoke  the  peon,  who,  unable  to  understand  a  word 
of  their  English,  nevertheless  sensed  the  drift  of  it. 

"  This  is  very  religious,  very  dangerous,  to  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  old  Maya  sacred  things.  It  is  the 
death-road.  My  father  knows.  Many  men  have  died. 
The  deaths  are  sudden  and  horrible.  Even  Maya  priests 
have  died.  My  father's  father  so  died.  He,  too,  loved 
a  Woman  of  the  tierra  caliente.  And  for  love  of  her,  for 
gold,  he  sold  the  Maya  secret  and  by  the  knot-writing 
led  tierra  caliente  men  to  the  treasure.  He  died.  They 
all  died.  My  father  does  not  like  the  women  of  the 
tierra  caliente  now  that  he  is  old.  He  liked  them  too  well 
in  his  youth,  which  was  his  sin.  And  he  knows  the  dan 
ger  of  leading  you  to  the  treasure.  Many  men  have 
sought  during  the  centuries.  Of  those  who  found  it,  not 
one  came  back.  It  is  said  that  even  conquistadores  and 
pirates  of  the  English  Morgan  have  won  to  the  hiding- 
place  and  decorated  it  with  their  bones." 

"  And  when  your  father  dies,"  Francis  queried,  "  then, 
being  his  son,  you  will  be  the  Maya  high  priest?  " 

"  No,  senor,"  the  peon  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  only 
half-Maya.  I  cannot  read  the  knots.  My  father  did  not 
teach  me  because  I  was  not  of  the  pure  Maya  blood." 

"  And  if  he  should  die,  right  now,  is  there  any  other 
Maya  who  can  read  the  knots  ?  " 

"  No,  senor.  My  father  is  the  last  living  man  who 
knows  that  ancient  language." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  l$ 

But  the  conversation  was  broken  in  upon  by  Leoncia  and 
Ricardo,  who,  having  tethered  their  mules  with  the  others, 
were  gazing  sheepishly  down  from  the  rim  of  the  de 
pression.  The  faces  of  Henry  and  Francis  lighted  with 
joy  at  the  sight  of  Leoncia,  while  their  mouths  opened  and 
their  tongues  articulated  censure  and  scolding.  Also, 
they  insisted  on  her  returning  with  Ricardo. 

"  But  you  cannot  send  me  away  before  giving  me  some 
thing  to  eat,"  she  persisted,  slipping  down  the  slope  of 
the  depression  with  pure  feminine  cunning  in  order  to 
place  the  discussion  on  a  closer  and  more  intimate  basis. 

Aroused  by  their  voices,  the  old  Maya  came  out  of  a 
trance  of  prayer  and  observed  her  with  wrath.  And  in 
wrath  he  burst  upon  her,  intermingling  occasional  Spanish 
words  and  phrases  with  a  flood  of  denunciation  in 
Maya. 

"  He  says  that  women  are  no  good,"  the  peon  inter 
rupted  in  the  first  pause.  "  He  says  women  bring  quar 
rels  amon^  men,  the  quick  steel,  the  sudden  death.  Bad 
luck  and  God's  wrath  are  ever  upon  them.  Their  ways 
are  not  God's  ways  and  they  lead  men  to  destruction. 
He  says  women  are  the  eternal  enemy  of  God  and  man, 
forever  keeping  God  and  man  apart.  He  says  women 
have  ever  cluttered  the  footsteps  of  God  and  have  kept 
men  away  from  traveling  the  path  of  God  to  God.  He 
says  this  woman  must  go  back." 

With  laughing  eyes,  Francis  whistled  his  appreciation 
of  the  diatribe,  while  Henry  said  : 

"Now  will  you  be  good,  Leoncia?  You  see  what  a 
Maya  thinks  of  your  sex.  This  is  no  place  for  you. 
California's  the  place.  Women  vote  there." 

"  The  trouble  is  that  the  old  man  is  remembering  the 
woman  who  brought  misfortune  upon  him  in  the  heydey 
of  his  youth,"  Francis  said.  He  turned  to  the  peon. 
"  Ask  your  father  to  read  the  knot-writing  and  see  what 


1 66  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

it  says  for  or  against  women  traveling  in  the  footsteps  of 
God." 

In  vain  the  ancient  high  priest  fumbled  the  sacred  writ 
ing.  There  was  not  to  be  found  the  slightest  authorita 
tive  objection  to  woman. 

"  He's  mixing  his  own  experiences  up  with  his 
mythology,"  Francis  grinned  triumphantly.  "  So  I  guess 
it's  pretty  near  all  right,  Leoncia,  for  you  to  stay  for  a 
bite  to  eat.  The  coffee's  made.  After  that.  .  .  ." 

But  "  after  that "  came  before.  Scarcely  had  they 
seated  themselves  on  the  ground  and  begun  to  eat,  when 
Francis,  standing  up  to  serve  Leoncia  with  tortillas,  had 
his  hat  knocked  off. 

"  My  word !  "  he  said,  sitting  down.  "  That  was  sud 
den.  Henry,  take  a  squint  and  see  who  tried  to  pot- 
shoot  me." 

The  next  moment,  save  for  the  peon's  father,  all  eyes 
were  peeping  across  the  rim  of  the  footstep.  What  they 
saw,  creeping  upon  them  from  every  side,  was  a  nonde 
script  and  bizarrely  clad  horde  of  men  who  seemed  mem 
bers  of  no  particular  race  but  composed  of  all  races. 
The  breeds  of  the  entire  human  family  seemed  to  have 
molded  their  lineaments  and  varicolored  their  skins. 

'  The  mangiest  bunch  I  ever  laid  eyes  on,"  was  Francis' 
comment. 

"  They  are  the  Caroos,"  the  peon  muttered,  betraying 
fear. 

"  And  who  in  — "  Francis  began.  Instantly  he 
amended.  "  And  who  in  Paradise  are  the  Caroos  ?  " 

"  They  come  from  hell,"  was  the  peon's  answer. 
"  They  are  more  savage  than  the  Spaniard,  more  terrible 
than  the  Maya.  They  neither  give  nor  take  in  marriage, 
nor  does  a  priest  reside  among  them.  They  are  the 
devil's  own  spawn,  and  their  ways  are  the  devil's  ways, 
only  worse." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  167 

Here  the  Maya  arose,  and,  with  accusing  finger,  de 
nounced  Leoncia  for  being  the  cause  of  this  latest  trouble. 
A  bullet  creased  his  shoulder  and  half-whirled  him  about. 

"  Drag  him  down ! "  Henry  shouted  to  Francis. 
"  He's  the  only  man  who  knows  the  knot-language ;  and 
the  eyes  of  Chia,  whatever  that  may  mean,  have  not  yet 
flashed." 

Francis  obeyed,  with  an  out-reach  of  arm  to  the  old 
fellow's  legs,  jerking  him  down  in  a  crumpled,  skeleton- 
like  fall. 

Henry  loosed  his  rifle,  and  elicited  a  fusillade  in  re 
sponse.  Next,  Ricardo,  Francis,  and  the  peon  joined  in. 
But  the  old  man,  still  running  his  knots,  fixed  his  gaze 
across  the  far  rim  of  the  footstep  upon  a  rugged  wall 
of  mountain  beyond. 

"  Hold  on !  "  shouted  Francis,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  make 
himself  heard  above  the  shooting. 

He  was  compelled  to  crawl  from  one  to  another  and 
shake  them  into  ceasing  from  firing.  And  to  each,  sep 
arately,  he  had  to  explain  that  all  their  ammunition  was 
with  the  mules,  and  that  they  must  be  sparing  with  the 
little  that  they  had  in  their  magazines  and  belts. 

"  And  don't  let  them  hit  you,"  Henry  warned. 
"  They've  got  old  muskets  and  blunderbuses  that  will 
drive  holes  through  you  the  size  of  dinner-plates." 

An  hour  later,  the  last  cartridge,  save  several  in  Fran 
cis'  automatic  pistol,  was  gone;  and  to  the  irregular  firing 
of  the  Caroos  the  pit  replied  with  silence.  Jose  Man- 
cheno  was  the  first  to  guess  the  situation.  He  cautiously 
crept  up  to  the  edge  of  the  pit  to  make  sure,  then  signaled 
to  the  Caroos  that  the  ammunition  of  the  beseiged  was 
exhausted  and  to  come  on. 

"  Nicely  trapped,  senors,"  he  exulted  down  at  the  de 
fenders,  while  from  all  around  the  rim  laughter  arose 
from  the  Caroos. 


l68  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

But  the  next  moment  the  change  that  came  over  the  sit 
uation  was  as  astounding  as  a  transformation  scene  in  a 
pantomime.  With  wild  cries  of  terror  the  Caroos  were 
fleeing.  Such  was  their  disorder  and  haste  that  numbers 
of  them  dropped  their  muskets  and  machetes. 

"  Anyway,  I'll  get  you,  Senor  Buzzard,"  Francis  pleas 
antly  assured  Mancheno,  at  the  same  time  flourishing  his 
pistol  at  him. 

He  leveled  his  weapon  as  Mancheno  fled,  but  recon 
sidered  and  did  not  draw  trigger. 

"  I've  only  three  shots  left,"  he  explained  to  Henry, 
half  in  apology.  "  And  in  this  country  one  can  never  tell 
when  three  shots  will  come  in  handiest,  '  as  I've  found  out, 
beyond  a  doubt,  beyond  a  doubt.'  ' 

"Look!"  the  peon  cried,  pointing  to  his  father  and 
to  the  distant  mountainside.  "  That  is  why  they  ran 
away.  They  have  learned  the  peril  of  the  sacred  things 
of  Maya." 

The  old  priest,  running  over  the  knots  of  the  tassel  in 
an  ecstasy  that  was  almost  trance-like,  was  gazing  fixedly 
at  the  distant  mountainside,  from  which,  side  by  side  and 
close  together,  two  bright  flashes  of  light  were  repeating 
themselves. 

"  Twin  mirrors  could  do  it  in  the  hands  of  a  man,"  was 
Henry's  comment. 

"  They  are  the  eyes  of  Chia,"  the  peon  repeated.  "  It 
is  so  written  in  the  knots  as  you  have  heard  my  father 
say.  Wait  in  the  footsteps  of  the  God  till  the  eyes  of 
Chia  Hash." 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet  and  wildly  proclaimed : 
"  To  find  the  treasure  we  must  find  the  eyes! " 

"  All  right,  old  top,"  Henry  soothed  him,  as,  with  his 
small  traveler's  compass  he  took  the  bearings  of  the 
flashes. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  169 

11  He's  got  a  compass  inside  his  head,"  Henry  re 
marked  an  hour  later  of  the  old  priest,  who  led  on  the 
foremost  mule.  "  I  check  him  by  the  compass,  and,  no 
matter  how  the  natural  obstacles  compel  him  to  deviate, 
he  comes  back  to  the  course  as  if  he  were  himself  a  mag 
netic  needle." 

Xot  since  leaving  the  footstep,  had  the  flashing  been 
visible.  Only  from  that  one  spot,  evidently,  did  the  rug 
ged  landscape  permit  the  seeing  of  them.  Rugged  the 
country  was,  broken  into  arroyos  and  cliffs,  interspersed 
with  forest  patches  and  stretches  of  sand  and  of  volcanic 
ash. 

At  last  the  way  became  impassable  for  their  mounts, 
and  Ricardo  was  left  behind  to  keep  charge  of  the  mules 
and  mule-peons  and  to  make  a  camp.  The  remainder  of 
the  party  continued  on,  scaling  the  jungle-clad  steep  that 
blocked  their  way  by  hoisting  themselves  and  one  another 
up  from  root  to  root.  The  old  Maya,  still  leading,  was 
oblivious  to  Leoncia's  presence. 

Suddenly,  half  a  mile  farther  on,  he  halted  and  shrank 
back  as  if  stung  by  a  viper.  Francis  laughed,  and  across 
the  wild  landscape  came  back  a  discordant,  mocking  echo. 
The  last  priest  of  the  Mayas  ran  the  knots  hurriedly, 
picked  out  a  particular  string,  ran  its  knots  twice,  and 
then  announced : 

"  When  the  God  laughs,  beware!  —  so  say  the  knots." 

Fifteen  minutes  were  lost  ere  Henry  and  Francis  suc 
ceeded  in  only  partly  convincing  him,  by  repeated  trials 
of  their  voices,  that  the  thing  was  an  echo. 

Half  an  hour  later,  they  debouched  on  a  series  of 
abrupt-rolling  sand-dunes.  Again  the  old  man  shrank 
back.  From  the  sand  in  which  they  strode,  arose  a  clamor 
of  noise.  When  they  stood  still,  all  was  still.  A  single 
step,  and  all  the  sand  about  them  became  vocal. 


I7O  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"When  the  God  laughs,  beware!"  the  old  Maya 
warned. 

Drawing  a  circle  in  the  sand  with  his  finger,  which 
shouted  at  him  as  he  drew  it,  he  sank  down  within  it  on 
his  knees,  and  as  his  knees  contacted  on  the  sand  arose  a 
very  screaming  and  trumpeting  of  sound.  The  peon 
joined  his  father  inside  the  noisy  circle,  where,  with  his 
fore-finger,  the  old  man  was  tracing  screeching  cabalistic 
figures  and  designs. 

Leoncia  was  overcome,  and  clung  both  to  Henry  and 
Francis.  Even  Francis  was  perturbed. 

"  The  echo  was  an  echo,"  he  said.  "  But  here  is  no 
echo.  I  don't  understand  it.  Frankly,  it  gets  my  goat." 

"Piffle!"  Henry  retorted,  stirring  the  sand  with  his 
foot  till  it  shouted  again.  "  It's  the  barking  sand.  On 
the  island  of  Kauai,  down  in  the  Hawaiian  Islands,  I  have 
been  across  similar  barking  sands  —  quite  a  place  for 
tourists,  I  assure  you.  Only  this  is  a  better  specimen,  and 
much  noisier.  The  scientists  have  a  score  of  high-brow 
theories  to  account  for  the  phenomenon.  It  occurs  in  sev 
eral  other  places  in  the  world,  as  I  have  heard.  There's 
only  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  to  follow  the  compass 
bearing  which  leads  straight  across.  Such  sands  do  bark, 
but  they  have  never  been  known  to  bite," 

But  the  last  of  the  priests  could  not  be  persuaded  out 
of  his  circle,  although  they  succeeded  in  disturbing  him 
from  his  prayers  long  enough  to  spout  a  flood  of  im 
passioned  Maya  speech. 

"  He  says,"  the  son  interpreted,  "  that  we  are  bent  on 
such  sacrilege  that  the  very  sands  cry  out  against  us.  He 
will  go  no  nearer  to  the  dread  abode  of  Chia.  Nor  will 
I.  His  father  died  there,  as  is  well  known  amongst  the 
Mayas.  He  says  he  will  not  die  there.  He  says  he  is  not 
old  enough  to  die." 

"The  miserable  octogenarian!"  Francis  laughed,  and 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  171 

was  startled  by  the  ghostly,  mocking  laugh  of  the  echo, 
while  all  about  them  the  sand-dunes  bayed  in  chorus. 
"  Too  youthful  to  die!  How  about  you,  Leoncia?  Are 
you  too  young  to  die  yet  a  while?  " 

"  Nay/'  she  smiled  back,  moving  her  foot  slightly  so 
as  to  bring  a  moan  of  reproach  from  the  sand  beneath  it. 
"  On  the  contrary',  I  am  too  old  to  die  just  because  the 
cliffs  echo  our  laughter  back  at  us  and  because  the  sand 
hills  bark  at  us.  Come,  let  us  go  on.  We  are  very 
close  to  those  flashings.  Let  the  old  man  wait  within  his 
circle  until  we  come  back." 

She  cast  off  their  hands  and  stepped  forward,  and  as 
they  followed,  all  the  dunes  became  articulate,  while  one, 
near  to  them,  clown  the  sides  of  which  ran  a  slide  of  sand, 
rumbled  and  thundered.  Fortunately  for  them,  as  they 
were  soon  to  learn,  Francis,  at  abandoning  the  mules,  had 
equipped  himself  \vith  a  coil  of  thin,  strong  rope. 

Once  across  the  sands  they  encountered  more  echoes. 
On  trials,  they  found  their  halloos  distinctly  repeated  as 
often  as  six  or  eight  times. 

"  Hell's  bells,"  said  Henry.  "  No  wonder  the  natives 
fight  shy  of  such  a  locality !  " 

"  Wasn't  it  Mark  Twain  who  wrote  about  a  man  whose 
hobby  was  making  a  collection  of  echoes?"  Francis 
queried. 

"  Never  heard  of  him.  But  this  is  certainly  some  fine 
collection  of  Maya  echoes.  They  chose  the  region  wisely 
for  a  hiding  place.  Undoubtedly  it  was  always  sacred, 
even  before  the  Spaniards  came.  The  old  priest  knew 
the  natural  causes  of  the  mysteries,  and  passed  them  over 
to  the  herd  as  mystery  with  a  capital  '  M  '  and  super 
natural  in  origin/' 

Not  many  minutes  afterward  they  emerged  on  an  open, 
level  space,  close  under  a  crannied  and  ledge-ribbed  cliff, 
and  exchanged  their  single-file  mode  of  progression  to 


I72  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

three-abreast.  The  ground  was  a  hard,  brittle  crust  of 
surface,  so  crystalline  and  dry  as  never  to  suggest  that  it 
was  aught  else  but  crystalline  and  dry  all  the  way  down. 
In  an  ebullition  of  spirits,  desiring  to  keep  both  men  on 
an  equality  of  favor,  Leoncia  seized  their  hands  and 
started  them  into  a  run.  At  the  end  of  half  a  dozen 
strides  the  disaster  happened.  Simultaneously  Henry 
and  Francis  broke  through  the  crust,  sinking  to  their 
thighs,  and  Leoncia  was  only  a  second  behind  them  in 
breaking  through  and  sinking  almost  as  deep. 

"Hell's  bells!"  Henry  muttered.  "It's  the  very 
devil's  own  landscape." 

And  his  low-spoken  words  were  whispered  back  to  him 
from  the  near-by  cliffs  on  all  sides  and  endlessly  and 
sibilantly  repeated. 

Not  at  first  did  they  fully  apprehend  their  danger.  It 
was  when,  by  their  struggles,  they  found  themselves 
waist-deep  and  steadily  sinking,  that  the  two  men  grasped 
the  gravity  of  the  situation.  Leoncia  still  laughed  at  the 
predicament,  for  it  seemed  no  more  than  that  to  her. 

"  Quicksand,"  Francis  gasped. 

"  Quicksand !  "  all  the  landscape  gasped  back  at  him, 
and  continued  to  gasp  it  in  fading  ghostly  whispers,  re 
peating  it  and  gossiping  about  it  with  gleeful  unction. 

"  It's  a  pot-hole  filled  with  quicksand,"  Henry  cor 
roborated. 

"  Maybe  the  old  boy  was  right  in  sticking  back  there 
on  the  barking  sands,"  observed  Francis. 

The  ghostly  whispering  redoubled  upon  itself  and  was 
a  long  time  in  dying  away. 

By  this  time  they  were  midway  between  waist  and  arm 
pits  and  sinking  as  methodically  as  ever. 

"  Well,  somebody's  got  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  alive," 
Henry  remarked. 

And,   even   without   discussing  the  choice,   both   men 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  173 

began  to  hoist  Leoncia  up,  although  the  effort  and  her 
weight  thrust  them  more  quickly  down.  When  she  stood, 
free  and  clear,  a  foot  on  the  nearest  shoulder  of  each  of 
the  two  men  she  loved,  Francis  said,  though  the  land 
scape  mocked  him : 

"  Now,  Leoncia,  we're  going  to  toss  you  out  of  this. 
At  the  word  *  Go ! '  let  yourself  go.  And  you  must  strike 
full  length  and  softly  on  the  crust.  You'll  slide  a  little. 
But  don't  let  yourself  stop.  Keep  on  going.  Crawl  out 
to  the  solid  land  on  your  hands  and  knees.  And,  what 
ever  you  do,  don't  stand  up  until  you  reach  the  solid  land. 
-Ready,  Henry?" 

Between  them,  though  it  hastened  their  sinking,  they 
swung  her  back  and  forth,  free  in  the  air,  and  the  third 
swing,  at  Francis'  "  Go!  "  heaved  her  shoreward. 

Her  obedience  to  their  instruction  was  implicit,  and, 
on  hands  and  knees,  she  gained  the  solid  rocks  of  the 
shore. 

"  Now  for  the  rope!  ''  she  called  to  them. 

But  by  this  time  Francis  was  too  deep  to  be  able  to  re 
move  the  coil  from  around  his  neck  and  under  one  arm. 
Henry  did  it  for  him,  and,  through  the  exertion  sank  him 
to  an  equal  deepness,  managed  to  fling  one  end  of  the 
rope  to  Leoncia. 

At  first  she  pulled  on  it.  Next,  she  fastened  a  turn 
around  a  bowlder  the  size  of  a  motor  car,  and  let  Henry 
pull.  But  it  was  in  vain.  The  strain  or  purchase  was 
so  lateral  that  it  seemed  only  to  pull  him  deeper.  The 
quicksand  was  suckkig  and  rising  over  his  shoulders  when 
Leoncia  cried  out,  precipitating  a  very  Bedlam  of  echoes : 

"Wait!  Stop  pulling!  I  have  an  idea!  Give  me 
all  the  slack !  Just  save  enough  of  the  end  to  tie  under 
your  shoulders !  " 

The  next  moment,  dragging  the  rope  after  her  by  the 
other  end,  she  was  scaling  the  cliff.  Forty  feet  up,  where 


174  HEARTS    OF   THREE 

a  gnarled  and  dwarfed  tree  rooted  in  the  crevices,  she 
paused.  Passing  the  rope  across  the  tree-trunk,  as  over 
a  hook,  she  drew  in  the  slack  and  made  fast  to  a  bowlder 
of  several  hundred-weight. 

"  Good  for  the  girl !  "  Francis  applauded  to  Henry. 

Both  men  had  grasped  her  plan,  and  success  depended 
merely  on  her  ability  to  dislodge  the  bowlder  and  topple  it 
off  the  ledge.  Five  precious  minutes  were  lost,  until  she 
could  find  a  dead  branch  of  sufficient  strength  to  serve 
as  a  crowbar.  Attacking  the  boulder  from  behind  and 
working  with  tense  coolness  while  her  two  lovers  con 
tinued  to  sink,  she  managed  at  the  last  to  topple  it  over 
the  brink. 

As  it  fell,  the  rope  tautened  with  a  jerk  that  fetched 
an  involuntary  grunt  from  Henry's  suddenly  constricted 
chest.  Slowly,  he  arose  out  of  the  quicksand,  his  prog 
ress  being  accompanied v  by  loud  sucking  reports  as  the 
sand  reluctantly  released  him.  But,  when  he  cleared  the 
surface,  the  bowlder  so  outweighed  him  that  he  shot  shore 
ward  across  the  crust  until  directly  under  the  purchase 
above,  when  the  boulder  came  to  rest  on  the  ground  be 
side  him. 

Only  Francis'  head,  arms,  and  tops  of  shoulders  were 
visible  above  the  quicksand  when  the  end  of  the  rope  was 
flung  to  him.  And,  when  he  stood  beside  them  on  terra 
firma,  and  when  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  quicksand  he  had 
escaped  by  so  narrow  a  shave,  they  joined  with  him  in 
deriding  it.  And  a  myriad  ghosts  derided  them  back,  and 
all  the  air  about  them  was  woven  by  whispering  shuttles 
into  an  evil  texture  of  mockery. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  WE  can't  be  a  million  miles  away  from  it,"  Henry 
said,  as  the  trio  came  to  pause  at  the  foot  of  a  high  steep 
cliff.  "If  it's  any  farther  on,  then  the  course  lies  right 
straight  up  over  the  cliff,  and  since  we  can't  climb  it  and 
from  the  extent  of  it  it  must  be  miles  around,  the  source  of 
those  flashes  ought  to  be  right  here." 

"  Now  could  it  have  been  a  man  with  looking-glasses  ?  " 
Leoncia  ventured. 

"  Most  likely  some  natural  phenomenon,"  Francis  an 
swered.  "  I'm  strong  on  natural  phenomena  since  those 
barking  sands." 

Leoncia,  who  chanced  to  be  glancing  along  the  face  of 
the  cliff  farther  on,  suddenly  stiffened  with  attention  and 
cried,  "  Look !  " 

Their  eyes  followed  hers,  and  rested  on  the  same  point. 
What  they  saw  was  no  flash,  but  a  steady  persistence  of 
white  light  that  blazed  and  burned  like  the  sun.  Follow 
ing  the  base  of  the  cliff  at  a  scramble,  both  men  remarked, 
from  the  density  of  vegetation,  that  there  had  been  no 
travel  of  humans  that  way  in  many  years.  Breathless 
from  their  exertions,  they  broke  out  through  the  brush 
upon  an  open-space  where  a  not-ancient  slide  of  rock 
from  the  cliff  precluded  the  growth  of  vegetable  life. 

Leoncia  clapped  her  hands.  There  was  no  need  for 
her  to  point.  Thirty  feet  above,  on  the  face  of  the  cliff, 
were  two  huge  eyes.  Fully  a  fathom  across  was  each 
of  the  eyes,  their  surfaces  brazen  with  some  white,  re 
flecting  substance. 

"  The  eyes  of  Chia!  "  she  cried. 

Henry  scratched  his  head  with  sudden  recollection. 

i75 


176  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  I've  a  shrewd  suspicion  I  can  tell  you  what  they're 
composed  of,"  he  said.  "  I've  never  seen  it  before,  but 
I've  heard  old-timers  mention  it.  It's  an  old  Maya  trick. 
My  share  of  the  treasure,  Francis,  against  a  perforated 
dime,  that  I  can  tell  you  what  the  reflecting  stuff  is." 

"  Done !  "  cried  Francis.  "  A  man's  a  fool  not  to  take 
odds  like  that,  even  if  it's  a  question  of  the  multiplication 
table.  Possible  millions  of  dollars  against  a  positive  bad 
dime!  I'd  bet  two  times  two  made  five  on  the  chance 
that  a  miracle  could  prove  it.  Name  it.  What  is  it? 
The  bet  is  on." 

"  Oysters,"  Henry  smiled.  "  Oyster  shells,  or,  rather, 
pearl-oyster  shells.  It's  mother-of-pearl,  cunningly 
mosaicked  and  cemented  in  so  as  to  give  a  continuous  re 
flecting  surface.  Now  you  have  to  prove  me  wrong,  so 
climb  up  and  see." 

Beneath  the  eyes,  extending  a  score  of  feet  up  and  down 
the  cliff,  was  a  curious,  triangular  out-jut  of  rock.  Al 
most  was  it  like  an  excrescence  on  the  face  of  the  cliff. 
The  apex  of  it  reached  within  a  yard  of  the  space  that 
intervened  between  the  eyes.  Rough  inequalities  of  sur 
face,  and  cat-like  clinging  on  Francis'  part,  enabled  him 
to  ascend  the  ten  feet  to  the  base  of  the  excrescence. 
Thence,  up  to  the  ridge  of  it,  the  way  was  easier.  But  a 
twenty-five- foot  fall  and  a  broken  arm  or  leg  in  the  midst 
of  such  isolation  was  no  pleasant  thing  to  consider,  and 
Leoncia,  causing  an  involuntary  jealous  gleam  to  light 
Henry's  eyes,  called  up : 

"  Oh,  do  be  careful,  Francis !  " 

Standing  on  the  tip  of  the  triangle  he  was  gazing,  now 
into  one,  and  then  into  the  other,  of  the  eyes.  He  drew 
his  hunting  knife  and  began  to  dig  and  pry  at  the  right- 
hand  eye. 

"If  the  old  gentleman  were  here  he'd  have  a  fit  at  such 
sacrilege,"  Henry  commented. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  177 

"  The  perforated  dime  is  yours,"  Francis  called  down, 
at  the  same  time  dropping  into  Henry's  outstretched  palm 
the  fragment  he  had  dug  loose. 

Mother-of-pearl  it  was,  a  flat  piece  cut  with  definite 
purpose  to  fit  in  with  the  many  other  pieces  to  form  the 
eye. 

"  Where  there's  smoke  there's  fire,"  Henry  adjudged. 
"  Not  for  nothing  did  the  Mayas  select  this  God-forsaken 
spot  and  stick  these  eyes  of  Chia  on  the  cliff." 

"  Looks  as  if  we'd  made  a  mistake  in  leaving  the  old 
gentleman  and  his  sacred  knots  behind,"  Francis  said. 
"  The  knots  should  tell  all  about  it  and  what  our  next 
move  should  be." 

"  Where  there  are  eyes  there  should  be  a  nose,"  Leoncia 
contributed. 

"And  there  is!"  exclaimed  Francis.  "Heavens! 
That  was  the  nose  I  just  climbed  up.  We're  too  close  up 
against  it  to  have  perspective.  At  a  hundred  yards'  dis 
tance  it  would  look  like  a  colossal  face." 

Leoncia  advanced  gravely  and  kicked  at  a  decaying  de 
posit  of  leaves  and  twigs  evidently  blown  there  by  tropic 
gales. 

"  Then  the  mouth  ought  to  be  where  a  mouth  belongs, 
here  under  the  nose,"  she  said. 

In  a  trice  Henry  and  Francis  had  kicked  the  rubbish 
aside  and  exposed  an  opening  too  small  to  admit  a  man's 
body.  x  It  was  patent  that  the  rock-slide  had  partly  blocked 
the  way.  A  few  rocks  heaved  aside  gave  space  for 
Francis  to  insert  his  head  and  shoulders  and  gaze  about 
with  a  lighted  match.  , 

"  Watch  out  for  snakes,"  warned  Leoncia. 

Francis  grunted  acknowledgment  and  reported : 

"  This  is  no  natural  cavern.  It's  all  hewn  rock,  and 
well  done,  if  I'm  any  judge."  A  muttered  expletive  an- 
nounc£dthe  burning  of  his  fingers  by  the  expiring  match- 


I78  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

stub.  And  next  they  heard  his  voice,  in  accents  of  sur 
prise:  "  Don't  need  any  matches.  It's  got  a  lighting 
system  of  its  own  —  from  somewhere  above  —  regular 
concealed  lighting,  then  it's  daylight  all  right.  Those  old 
Mayas  were  certainly  some  goers.  Wouldn't  be  surprised 
if  we  found  an  elevator,  hot  and  cold  water,  a  furnace, 
and  a  Swede  janitor.  —  Well,  so  long." 

His  trunk,  and  legs/and  feet  disappeared,  and  then  his 
voice  issued  forth: 

"  Come  on  in.     The  cave  is  fine." 

"  And  now  aren't  you  glad  you  let  me  come  along?  " 
Leoncia  twitted,  as  she  joined  the  two  men  on  the  level 
floor  of  the  rock-hewn  chamber,  where,  their  eyes  quickly 
accustoming  to  the  mysterious  gray-percolation  of  day 
light,  they  could  see  about  them  with  surprising  distinct 
ness.  "  First,  I  found  the  eyes  for  you,  and,  next,  the 
mouth.  If  I  hadn't  been  along,  most  likely,  by  this  time, 
you'd  have  been  a  mile  away,  going  around  the  cliff  and 
going  farther  and  farther  every  step  you  took. 

"  But  the  place  is  bare  as  old  Mother  Hubbard's  cup 
board,"  she  added,  the  next  moment. 

"  Naturally,"  said  Henry.  "  This  is  only  the  ante 
chamber.  Not  so  sillily  would  the  Mayas  hide  the  treas 
ure  the  conquistadores  were  so  mad  after.  I'm  willing  to 
wager  right  now  that  we're  almost  as  far  from  finding 
the  actual  treasure  as  we  would  be  if  we  were  not  here 
but  in  San  Antonio." 

Twelve  or  fifteen  feet  in  width  and  of  an  unascertain- 
able  height,  the  passage  led  them  what  Henry  judged 
forty  paces,  or  well  over  a  hundred  feet.  Then  it 
abruptly  narrowed,  turned  at  a  right  angle  to  the  right, 
and,  with  a  similar  right  angle  to  the  left,  made  an  elbow 
into  another  spacious  chamber. 

Still  the  mysterious  percolation  of  daylight  guided  the 
way  for  their  eyes,  and  Francis,  in  the  lead,  stopped  so 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  179 

suddenly  that  Leoncia  and  Henry,  in  single  file  behind, 
collided  with  him.  Leoncia  in  the  center,  and  Henry  on 
her  left,  they  stood  abreast  and  gazed  down  a  long  avenue 
of  humans,  long  dead,  but  not  dust. 

"  Like  the  Egyptians,  the  Mayas  knew  embalming  and 
mummifying,"  Henry  said,  his  voice  unconsciously  sink 
ing  to  a  whisper  in  the  presence  of  so  many  unburied 
dead,  who  stood  erect  and  at  gaze,  as  if  still  alive. 

All  were  European-clad,  and  all  exposed  the  impassive 
faces  of  Europeans.  About  them,  as  to  the  life,  were 
draped  the  ages-rotten  habiliments  of  the  conquistadores 
and  of  the  English  pirates.  Two  of  them,  with  visors 
raised,  were  encased  in  rusty  armor.  Their  swords  and 
cutlasses  were  belted  to  them  or  held  in  their  shriveled 
hands,  and  through  their  belts  were  thrust  huge  flintlock 
pistols  of  archaic  model. 

"  The  old  Maya  was  right,"  Francis  whispered. 
"  They've  decorated  the  hiding  place  with  their  mortal  re 
mains  and  been  stuck  up  in  the  lobby  as  a  warning  to 
trespassers.  -Say!  If  that  chap  isn't  a  real  Iberian! 
I'll  bet  he  played  haia-lai,  and  his  fathers  before  him." 

"  And  that's  a  Devonshire  man  if  I  ever  saw  one," 
Henry  whispered  back.  "  Perforated  dimes  to  pieces- 
of-eight  that  he  poached  the  fallow  deer  and  fled  the 
king's  wrath  in  the  first  forecastle  for  the  Spanish  Main." 

"Br-r-r!"  Leoncia  shivered,  clinging  to  both  men. 
"  The  sacred  things  of  the  Mayas  are  deadly  and  ghastly. 
And  there  is  a  classic  vengeance  about  it.  The  would- 
be  robbers  of  the  treasure-house  have  become  its  defend 
ers,  guarding  it  with  their  unperishing  clay." 

They  were  loath  to  proceed.  The  garmented  specters 
of  the  ancient  dead  held  them  temporarily  spell-bound. 
Henry  grew  melodramatic. 

"  Even  to  this  far,  mad  place,"  he  said,  "  as  early  as 
the  beginning  of  the  Conquest,  their  true-hound  noses  led 


l8o  HEARTS    OF   THREE 

them  on  the  treasure-scent.  Even  though  they  could  not 
get  away  with  it,  they  won  unerringly  to  it.  —  My  hat 
if  off  to  you,  pirates  and  conquistadores !  I  salute  you, 
old  gallant  plunderers,  whose  noses  smelt  out  gold,  and 
whose  hearts  were  brave  sufficient  to  fight  to  it!  " 

"  Huh !  "  Francis  concurred,  as  he  urged  the  other  two 
to  traverse  the  avenue  of  the  ancient  adventurers.  "  Old 
Sir  Henry  himself  ought  to  be  here  at  the  head  of  the 
procession." 

Thirty  paces  they  took,  ere  the  passage  elbowed  as  be 
fore,  and,  at  the  very  end  of  the  double-row  of  mum 
mies,  Henry  brought  his  companions  to  a  halt  as  he 
pointed  and  said : 

"  I  don't  know  about  Sir  Henry,  but  there's  Alvarez 
Torres." 

Under  a  Spanish  helmet,  in  decapitated  medieval  Span 
ish  dress,  a  big  Spanish  sword  in  its  brown  and  withered 
hand,  stood  a  mummy  whose  lean  brown  face  for  all  the 
world  was  the  lean  brown  face  of  Alvarez  Torres.  Leon- 
cia  gasped,  shrank  back,  and  crossed  herself  at  the  sight. 

Francis  released  her  to  Henry,  advanced,  and  fingered 
the  cheeks  and  lips  and  forehead  of  the  thing,  and  laughed 
reassuringly : 

"  I  only  wish  Alvarez  Torres  were  as  dead  as  this  dead 
one  is.  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt,  however,  but  what 
Torres  descended  from  him  —  I  mean  before  he  came 
here  to  take  up  his  final  earthly  residence  as  a  member  of 
the  Maya  Treasure  Guard." 

Leoncia  passed  the  grim  figure  shudderingly.  This 
time,  the  elbow  passage  was  very  dark,  compelling  Henry, 
who  had  changed  into  the  lead,  to  light  numerous  matches. 

"  Hello!  "  he  said,  as  he  paused  at  the  end  of  a  couple 
of  hundred  feet.  "  Gaze  on  that  for  workmanship ! 
Look  at  the  dressing  of  that  stone!  " 

From  beyond,  gray  light  streamed  into  the  passage, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  l8l 

making  matches  unnecessary  to  see.  Half  into  a  niche 
was  thrust  a  stone  the  size  of  the  passage.  It  was  ap 
parent  that  it  had  been  used  to  block  the  passage.  The 
dressing  was  exquisite,  the  sides  and  edges  of  the  block 
precisely  aligned  with  the  place  in  the  wall  into  which  it 
was  made  to  dovetail. 

"  I'll  wager  here's  where  the  old  Maya's  father  died," 
Francis  exclaimed.  "  He  knew  the  secret  of  the  balances 
and  leverages  that  pivoted  the  stone,  and  it  was  only 
partly  pivoted,  as  you'll  observe  — 

"  Hell's  bells !  "  Henry  interrupted,  pointing  before 
him  on  the  floor  at  a  scattered  skeleton.  "  It  must  be 
what's  left  of  him.  It's  fairly  recent,  or  he  would  have 
been  mummified.  Most  likely  he  was  the  last  visitor 
before  us." 

"  The  old  priest  said  his  father  led  men  of  the  tierra 
caliente  here,"  Leoncia  reminded  Henry. 

"  Also,"  Francis  supplemented,  "  he  said  that  none 
returned." 

Henry,  who  had  located  the  skull  and  picked  it  up, 
uttered  another  exclamation  and  lighted  a  match  to  show 
the  others  what  he  had  discovered.  Not  only  was  the 
skull  dented  with  what  must  have  been  a  blow  from  a 
sword  or  a  machete,  but  a  scattered  hole  in  the  back  of 
the  skull  showed  the  unmistakable  entrance  of  a  bullet. 
Henry  shook  the  skull,  was  rewarded  by  an  interior 
rattling,  shook  again,  and  shook  out  a  partly  flattened 
bullet.  Francis  examined  it. 

"  From  a  horse-pistol,"  he  concluded  aloud.  "  With 
weak  or  greatly  deteriorated  powder,  because,  in  a. place 
like  this,  it  must  have  been  fired  pretty  close  to  point 
blank  range  and  yet  failed  to  go  all  the  way  through. 
And  it's  an  aboriginal  skull  all  right." 

A  right-angled  turn  completed  the  elbow  and  gave 
them  access  to  a  small  but  well-lighted  rock  chamber. 


l82  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

From  a  window,  high  up  and  barred  with  vertical  bars  of 
stone  a  foot  thick  and  half  as  wide,  poured  gray  daylight. 
The  floor  of  the  place  was  littered  with  white-picked  bones 
of  men.  An  examination  of  the  skulls  showed  them  to  be 
those  of  Europeans.  Scattered  among  them  were  rifles, 
pistols,  and  knives,  with,  here  and  there,  a  machete. 

'  Thus  far  they  won,  across  the  very  threshold  to  the 
treasure,"  Francis  said,  "  and,  from  the  looks,  began  to 
fight  for  its  possession  before  they  laid  hands  on  it.  Too 
bad  the  old  man  isn't  here  to  see  what  happened  to  his 
father." 

"  Might  there  not  have  been  survivors  who  managed  to 
get  away  with  the  loot  ?  "  suggested  Henry. 

But  at  that  moment,  casting  his  eyes  from  the  bones 
to  a  survey  of  the  chamber,  Francis  saw  what  made  him 
say : 

"  Without  doubt,  no.  See  those  gems  in  those  eyes. 
Rubies,  or  I  never  saw  a  ruby !  " 

They  followed  his  gaze  to  the  stone  statue  of  a  squat 
and  heavy  female  who  stared  at  them  red-eyed  and  open- 
mouthed.  So  large  was  the  mouth  that  it  made  a  cari 
cature  of  the  rest  of  the  face.  Beside  it,  carved  similarly 
of  stone,  and  on  somewhat  more  heroic  lines,  was  a  more 
obscene  and  hideous  male  statue,  with  one  ear  of  pro 
portioned  size  and  the  other  ear  as  grotesquely  large  as 
the  female's  mouth. 

"  The  beauteous  dame  must  be  Chia  all  right,"  Henry 
grinned.  "  But  who's  her  gentleman  friend  with  the 
elephant  ear  and  the  green  eyes  ?  " 

"  Search  me,"  Francis  laughed.  "  But  this  I  do  know : 
those  green  eyes  of  the  elephant-eared  one  are  the  largest 
emeralds  I've  ever  seen  or  dreamed  of.  Each  of  them  is 
really  too  large  to  possess  fair  carat  value.  They  should 
be  crown  jewels  or  nothing." 

"  But  a  couple  of  emeralds  and  a  couple  of  rubies,  no 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  183 

matter  what  size,  should  not  constitute  the  totality  of  the 
Maya  treasure,"  Henry  contended.  "  We're  across  the 
threshold  of  it,  and  yet  we  lack  the  key  - 

"  Which  the  old  Maya,  back  on  the  barking  sands,  un 
doubtedly  holds  in  that  sacred  tassel  of  his,"  Leoncia  said. 
"  Except  for  these  two  statues  and  the  bones  on  the 
floor,  the  place  is  bare." 

As  she  spoke,  she  advanced  to  look  the  male  statue 
over  more  closely.  The  grotesque  ear  centered  her  at 
tention,  and  she  pointed  into  it  as  she  added :  "  I  don't 
know  about  the  key,  but  there  is  the  key-hole." 

True  enough,  the  elephantine  ear,  instead  of  enfolding 
an  orifice  as  an  ear  of  such  size  should,  was  completely 
blocked  up  save  for  a  small  aperture  that  not  too  remotely 
resembled  a  key-hole.  They  wandered  vainly  about  the 
chamber,  tapping  the  walls  and  floor,  seeking  for  cun 
ningly-hidden  passageways  or  unguessable  clews  to  the 
hiding  place  of  the  treasure. 

"  Bones  of  tierra  caliente  men,  two  idols,  two  emeralds 
of  enormous  size,  two  rubies  ditto,  and  ourselves,  are  all 
the  place  contains,"  Francis  summed  up.  "  Only  a  couple 
of  things  remain  for  us  to  do :  go  back  and  bring  up 
Ricardo  and  the  mules  to  make  camp  outside;  and  bring 
up  the  old  gentleman  and  his  sacred  knots  if  we  have  to 
carry  him." 

"  You  wait  with  Leoncia,  and  I'll  go  back  and  bring 
them  up,"  Henry  volunteered,  when  they  had  threaded 
the  long  passages  and  the  avenues  of  the  erect  dead  and 
won  to  the  sunshine  and  the  sky  outside  the  face  of  the 
cliff. 

Back  on  the  barking  sands  the  peon  and  his  father 
knelt  in  the  circle  so  noisily  drawn  by  the  old  man's  fore 
finger.  A  local  rain  squall  beat  upon  them,  and,  though 
the  peon  shivered,  the  old  man  prayed  on  oblivious  to 


184  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

what  might  happen  to  his  skin  in  the  way  of  wind  and 
water.  It  was  because  the  peon  shivered  and  was  un 
comfortable  that  he  observed  two  things  which  his  father 
missed.  First,  he  saw  Alvarez  Torres  and  Jose  Mancheno 
cautiously  venture  out  from  the  jungle  upon  the  sand. 
Next,  he  saw  a  miracle.  The  miracle  was  that  the  pair 
of  them  trudged  steadily  across  the  sand  without  causing 
the  slightest  sound  to  arise  from  their  progress.  When 
they  had  disappeared  ahead,  he  touched  his  finger  tenta 
tively  to  the  sand,  and  aroused  no  ghostly  whisperings. 
He  thrust  his  finger  into  the  sand,  yet  all  was  silent,  as 
was  it  silent  when  he  buffeted  the  sand  heartily  with  the 
flat  of  his  palm.  The  passing  shower  had  rendered  the 
sand  dumb. 

He  shook  his  father  out  of  his  prayers,  announcing: 

"  The  sand  no  longer  is  noisy.  It  is  as  silent  as  the 
grave.  And  I  have  seen  the  enemy  of  the  rich  Gringo 
pass  across  the  sand  without  sound.  He  is  not  devoid 
of  sin,  this  Alvarez  Torres,  yet  did  the  sand  make  no 
sound.  The  sand  has  died.  The  voice  of  the  sand  is 
not.  Where  the  sinful  may  walk,  you  and  I,  old  father, 
may  walk." 

Inside  the  circle,  the  old  Maya,  with  trembling  fore 
finger  in  the  sand,  traced  further  cabalistic  characters ;  and 
the  sand  did  not  shout  back  at  him.  Outside  the  circle 
it  was  the  same  —  because  the  sand  had  become  wet,  and 
because  it  was  the  way  of  the  sand  to  be  vocal  only  when 
it  was  bone-dry  under  the  sun.  He  fingered  the  knots  of 
the  sacred  writing  tassel. 

"  It  says,"  he  reported,  "  that  when  the  sand  no  longer 
talks  it  is  safe  to  proceed.  So  far  I  have  obeyed  all  in 
structions.  In  order  to  obey  further  instruction,  let  us 
now  proceed." 

So  well  did  they  proceed,  that,  shortly  beyond  the 
barking  sands,  they  overtook  Torres  and  Mancheno,  which 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  185 

worthy  pair  slunk  off  into  the  brush  on  one  side,  watched 
the  priest  and  his  son  go  by,  and  took  up  their  trail  well 
in  the  rear.  While  Henry,  taking  a  short  cut,  missed 
both  couples  of  men. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"  EVEN  so,  it  was  a  mistake  and  a  weakness  on  my  part 
to  remain  in  Panama,"  Francis  was  saying  to  Leoncia,  as 
they  sat  side  by  side  on  the  rocks  outside  the  cave  entrance, 
waiting  Henry's  return. 

"  Does  the  stock  market  of  New  York  then  mean  so 
much  to  you?  "  Leoncia  coquettishly  teased;  yet  only  part 
of  it  was  coquetry,  the  major  portion  of  it  being  tempori- 
zation.  She  was  afraid  of  being  -alone  with  this  man 
whom  she  loved  so  astoundingly  and  terribly. 

Francis  was  impatient. 

"  I  am  ever  a  straight  talker,  Leoncia.  I  say  what  I 
mean,  in  the  directest,  shortest  way  — ' 

"  Wherein  you  differ  from  us  Spaniards,"  she  inter 
polated,  "  who  must  garnish  and  dress  the  simplest 
thoughts  with  all  decorations  of  speech." 

But  he  continued  undeterred  what  he  had  started  to  say. 

"  There  you  are  a  baffler,  Leoncia,  which  was  just  what 
I  was  going  to  call  you.  I  speak  straight  talk  and  true 
talk,  which  is  a  man's  way.  You  baffle  in  speech  and 
flutter  like  a  butterfly  —  which  I  grant,  is  a  woman's 
way  and  to  be  expected.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not  fair 
.  .  .  to  me.  I  tell  you  straight  out  the  heart  of  me, 
and  you  understand.  You  do  not  tell  me  your  heart. 
You  flutter  and  baffle,  and  I  do  not  understand.  There 
fore,  you  have  me  at  disadvantage.  You  know  I  love 
you.  I  have  told  you  plainly.  I?  What  do  I  know 
about  you?  " 

With  downcast  eyes  and  rising  color  in  her  cheeks,  she 
sat  silent,  unable  to  reply. 

"  You  see!  "  he  insisted.  "  You  do  not  answer.  You 

186 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  187 

look  warmer  and  more  beautiful  and  desirable  than  ever, 
more  enticing,  in  short ;  and  yet  you  baffle  me  and  tell  me 
nothing  of  your  heart  or  intention.  Is  it  because  you  are 
woman?  Or  because  you  are  Spanish?  " 

She  felt  herself  stirred  profoundly.  Beyond  herself, 
yet  in  cool  control  of  herself,  she  raised  her  eyes  and 
looked  steadily  in  his  as  steadily  she  said : 

"  I  can  be  Anglo-Saxon,  or  English,  or  American,  or 
whatever  you  choose  to  name  the  ability  to  look  things 
squarely  in  the  face  and  to  talk  squarely  into  the  face  of 
things."  She  paused  and  debated  coolly  with  herself,  and 
coolly  resumed.  "  You  complain  that  while  you  have 
told  me  that  you  love  me,  I  have  not  told  you  whether  or 
not  I  love  you.  I  shall  settle  that  forever  and  now.  I 
do  love  you  —  " 

She  thrust  his  eager  arms  away  from  her. 

"  Wait !  "  she  commanded.  "  Who  is  the  woman  now  ? 
Or  the  Spaniard?  I  had  not  finished.  I  love  you.  I 
am  proud  that  I  love  you.  Yet  there  is  more.  You  have 
asked  me  for  my  heart  and  intention.  I  have  told  you 
part  of  the  one.  I  now  tell  you  all  of  the  other :  I 
intend  to  marry  Henry." 

Such  Anglo-Saxon  directness  left  Francis  breathless. 

"  In  heaven's  name,  why?  "  was  all  he  could  utter. 

"  Because  I  love  Henry,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  still 
unshrinkingly  on  his. 

"And  you  —  you  say  you  love  me?"  he  quavered. 

"  And  I  love  you,  too.  I  love  both  of  you.  I  am  a 
good  woman,  at  least  I  always  used  to  think  so.  I  still 
think  so,  though  my  reason  tells  me  that  I  cannot  love  two 
men  at  the  same  time  and  be  a  good  woman.  I  don't  care 
about  that.  If  I  am  bad,  it  is  I,  and  I  cannot  help  myself 
for  being  what  I  was  born  to  be." 

She  paused  and  waited,  but  her  lover  was  still  speech 
less. 


l88  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  And  who's  the  Anglo-Saxon  now?  "  she  queried,  with 
a  slight  smile,  half  of  bravery,  half  of  amusement  at  the 
dumbness  of  consternation  her  words  had  produced  in 
him.  "  I  have  told  you,  without  baffling,  without  flutter 
ing,  my  full  heart  and  my  full  intention." 

"But  you  can't!"  he  protested  wildly.  "You  can't 
love  me  and  mar.ry  Henry." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  not  understood,"  she  chided 
gravely.  "  I  intend  to  marry  Henry.  I  love  you.  I 
love  Henry.  But  I  cannot  marry  both  of  you.  The  law 
will  not  permit.  Therefore  I  shall  marry  only  one  of 
you.  It  is  my  intention  that  that  one  be  Henry." 

"  Then  why,  why,"  he  demanded,  "  did  you  persuade 
me  into  remaining?  " 

"  Because  I  loved  you.     I  have  already  so  told  you." 

"  If  you  keep  this  up  I  shall  go  mad !  "  he  cried. 

"  I  have  felt  like  going  mad  over  it  myself  many  times," 
she  assured  him.  "If  you  think  it  is  easy  for  me  thus  to 
play  the  Anglo-Saxon,  you  are  mistaken.  But  no  Anglo- 
Saxon,  not  even  you  whom  I  love  so  dearly,  can  hold  me 
in  contempt  because  I  hide  the  shameful  secrets  of  the 
impulses  of  my  being.  Less  shameful  I  find  it,  for  me 
to  tell  them,  right  out  in  meeting,  to  you.  If  this  be 
Anglo-Saxon,  make  the  most  of  it.  If  it  be  Spanish, 
and  woman,  and  Solano,  still  make  the  most  of  it,  for  I 
am  Spanish,  and  woman  —  a  Spanish  woman  of  the 
Solanos  — 

"  But  I  don't  talk  with  my  hands,"  she  added  with  a 
wan  smile  in  the  silence  that  fell. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  speak,  she  hushed  him,  and  both 
listened  to  a  crackling  and  rustling  from  the  underbrush 
that  advertised  the  passage  of  humans. 

"  Listen,"  she  whispered  hurriedly,  laying  her  hand 
suddenly  on  his  arm,  as  if  pleading.  "  I  shall  be  finally 
Anglo-Saxon,  and  for  the  last  time,  when  I  tell  you  what 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  189 

I  am  going  to  tell  you.  Afterward,  and  for  always,  I 
shall  be  the  baffling,  fluttering,  female  Spaniard  you  have 
chosen  for  my  description.  Listen :  I  love  Henry,  it  is 
true,  very  true.  I  love  you  more,  much  more.  I  shall 
marry  Henry  —  because  I  love  him  and  am  pledged  to 
him.  Yet  always  shall  I  love  you  more." 

Before  he  could  protest,  the  old  Maya  priest  and  his 
peon  son  emerged  from  the  underbrush  close  upon  them. 
Scarcely  noticing  their  presence,  the  priest  went  down  on 
his  knees,  exclaining,  in  Spanish : 

"  For  the  first  time  have  my  eyes  beheld  the  eyes  of 
Chia." 

He  ran  the  knots  of  the  sacred  tassel  and  began  a  prayer 
in  Maya,  which,  could  they  have  understood,  ran  as  fol 
lows: 

"  O  immortal  Chia,  great  spouse  of  the  divine  Hzatzl 
who  created  all  things  out  of  nothingness !  O  immortal 
spouse  of  Hzatzl,  thyself  the  mother  of  the  corn,  the 
divinity  of  the  heart  of  the  husked  grain,  goddess  of  the 
rain  and  the  fructifying  sun-rays,  nourisher  of  all  the 
grains  and  roots  and  fruits  for  the  sustenance  of  man! 
O  glorious  Chia,  whose  mouth  ever  commands  the  ear  of 
Hzatzl,  to  thee  humbly,  thy  priest,  I  make  my  prayer.  Be 
kind  to  me,  and  forgiving.  From  thy  mouth  let  issue 
forth  the  golden  key  that  opens  the  ear  of  Hzatzl.  Let 
thy  faithful  priest  gain  to  Hzatzl's  treasure. — Not 
for  himself,  O  Divinity,  but  for  the  sake  of  his  son  whom 
the  Gringo  saved.  Thy  children,  the  Mayas,  pass. 
There  is  no  need  for  them  of  the  treasure.  I  am  thy 
last  priest.  With  me  passes  all  understanding  of  thee  and 
of  thy  great  spouse,  whose  name  I  breathe  only  with  my 
forehead  on  the  stones.  Hear  me,  O  Chia,  hear  me! 
My  head  is  on  the  stones  before  thee!  " 

For  all  of  five  minutes  the  old  Maya  lay  prone,  quiv 
ering  and  jerking  as  if  in  a  catalepsy,  while  Leoncia  and 


19°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Francis  looked  curiously  on,  themselves  half -swept  by  the 
unmistakable  solemnity  of  the  old  man's  prayer,  non-un 
derstandable  though  it  was. 

Without  waiting  for  Henry,  Francis  entered  the  cave 
a  second  time.  With  Leoncia  beside  him,  he  felt  quite 
like  a  guide  as  he  showed  the  old  priest  over  the  place. 
The  latter,  ever  reading  the  knots  and  mumbling,  followed 
behind,  while  the  peon  was  left  on  guard  outside. 

In  the  avenue  of  mummies  the  priest  halted  reverently 
—  not  so  much  for  the  mummies  as  for  the  sacred  tassel. 

"  It  is  so  written,"  he  announced,  holding  out  a  partic 
ular  string  of  knots.  '  These  men  were  evil,  and  robbers. 
Their  doom  here  is  to  wait  forever  outside  the  inner  room 
of  Maya  mystery." 

Francis  hurried  him  past  the  heap  of  bones  of  his  father 
before  him,  and  led  him  into  the  inner  chamber,  where 
first  of  all,  he  prostrated  himself  before  the  two  idols  and 
prayed  long  and  earnestly.  After  that,  he  studied  certain 
of  the  strings  very  carefully.  Then  he  made  announce 
ment,  first  in  Maya,  which  Francis  gave  him  to  know  was 
unintelligible,  and  next  in  broken  Spanish: 

"From  the  mouth  of  Chia  to  the  ear  of  Hzatzl  —  so 
is  it  written." 

Francis  listened  to  the  crytic  utterance,  glanced  into  the 
dark  cavity  of  the  goddess'  mouth,  stuck  the  blade  of  his 
hunting-knife  into  the  key-hole  of  the  god's  monstrous 
ear,  then  tapped  the  stone  with  the  hilt  of  his  knife  and 
declared  the  statue  to  be  hollow.  Back  to  Chia,  he  was 
tapping  her  to  demonstrate  her  hollowness,  when  the  old 
Maya  muttered : 

"  The  feet  of  Chia  rest  upon  nothingness." 

Francis,  caught  by  the  idea,  made  the  old  man  verify 
the  message  by  the  knots. 

"  Her  feet  are  large,"  Leoncia  laughed,"  but  they  rest 
on  the  solid  rock-floor  and  not  on  nothingness." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  IQI 

Francis  pushed  against  the  female  deity  with  his  hand 
and  found  that  she  moved  easily.  Gripping  her  with  both 
hands,  he  began  to  wrestle,  moving  her  with  quick  jerks 
and  twists. 

" For  the  strong  man  and  unafraid  will  Chia  walk" 
the  priest  read.  "  But  the  next  three  knots  declare : 
Beivare!  Beware!  Beware!'' 

"  Well,  I  guess  that  nothingness,  whatever  it  is,  won't 
bite  me,"  Francis  chuckled,  as  he  released  the  statue  after 
shifting  it  a  yard  from  its  original  position. 

"  There,  old  lady,  stand  there  for  a  while,  or  sit  down 
if  that  will. rest  your  feet.  They  ought  to  be  tired  after 
standing  on  nothing  for  so  many  centuries." 

A  cry  from  Leoncia  drew  his  gaze  to  the  portion  of  the 
floor  just  vacated  by  the  large  feet  of  Chia.  Stepping 
backward  from  the  displaced  goddess,  he  had  been  just 
about  to  fall  into  the  rock-hewn  hole  her  feet  had  con 
cealed.  It  was  circular,  and  a  full  yard  in  diameter.  In 
vain  he  tested  its  depth  by  dropping  lighted  matches. 
They  fell  burning,  and,  without  reaching  bottom,  still 
falling,  were  extinguished  by  the  draught  of  their  flight. 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  nothingness  without  a  bot 
tom,"  he  adjudged,  as  he  dropped  a  tiny  stone  fragment. 

Many  seconds  they  listened  ere  they  heard  it  strike. 

"  Even  that  may  not  be  the  bottom/'  Leoncia  suggested. 
"  It  may  have  struck  against  some  projection  from  the 
side  and  even  lodged  there." 

"  Well,  this  will  determine  it,"  Francis  cried,  seizing 
an  ancient  musket  from  among  the  bones  on  the  floor 
and  preparing  to  drap  it. 

But  the  old  man  stopped  him. 

"  The  message  of  the  sacred  knots  is :  Whoso  violates 
the  nothingness  beneath  the  feet  of  Chia  shall  quickly  and 
terribly  die." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  make  a  stir  in  the  void,"  Francis 


I92  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

grinned,  tossing  the  musket  aside.  "  But  what  are  we  to 
do  now,  old  Maya  man?  From  the  mouth  of  Chia  to 
the  ear  of  Hzatzl  sounds  easy  —  but  how?  —  and  what? 
Run  the  sacred  knots  with  thy  fingers,  old  top,  and  find 
for  us  how  and  what/' 

For  the  son  of  the  priest,  the  peon  with  the  frayed 
knees,  the  clock  had  struck.  All  unawares,  he  had  seen 
his  last  sun-rise.  No  matter  what  happened  this  day, 
no  matter  what  blind  efforts  he  might  make  to  escape, 
the  day  was  to  be  his  last  day.  Had  he  remained  on 
guard  at  the  cave-entrance,  he  would  surely  have  been 
killed  by  Torres  and  Mancheno,  who  had  arrived  close  on 
his  heels. 

But,  instead  of  so  remaining,  it  entered  his  cautious, 
timid  soul  to  make  a  scout  out  and  beyond  for  possible 
foes.  Thus,  he  missed  death  in  the  daylight  under  the 
sky.  Yet  the  pace  of  the  hands  of  the  clock  was  unal 
tered,  and  neither  nearer  nor  farther  was  his  destined  end 
from  him. 

While  he  scouted,  Alvarez  Torres  and  Jose  Mancheno 
arrived  at  the  cave-opening.  The  colossal,  mother-of- 
pearl  eyes  of  Chia  on  the  wall  of  the  cliff  were  too  much 
for  the  superstition-reared  Caroo. 

"  Do  you  go  in,"  he  told  Torres.  "  I  will  wait  here  and 
watch  and  guard." 

And  Torres,  with  strong  in  him  the  blood  of  the  ancient 
forebear  who  stood  faithfully  through  the  centuries  in 
the  avenue  of  the  mummy  dead,  entered  the  Maya  cave  as 
courageously  as  that  forebear  had  entered. 

And  the  instant  he  was  out  of  sight,  Jose  Mancheno, 
unfraid  to  murder  treacherously  any  living,  breathing 
man,  but  greatly  afraid  of  the  unseen  world  behind  un- 
explainable  phenomena,  forgot  the  trust  of  watch  and 
ward  and  stole  away  through  the  jungle.  Thus,  the  peon, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  193 

returning  reassured  from  his  scout  and  curious  to  learn 
the  Maya  secrets  of  his  father  and  of  the  sacred  tassel, 
found  nobody  at  the  cave  mouth  and  himself  entered  into 
it  close  upon  the  heels  of  Torres. 

The  latter  trod  softly  and  cautiously,  for  fear  of  dis 
closing  his  presence  to  those  he  trailed.  Also,  his  prog 
ress  was  still  further  delayed  by  the  spectacle  of  the 
ancient  dead  in  the  hall  of  mummies.  Curiously  he  ex 
amined  these  men  whom  history  had  told  about,  and  for 
whom  history  had  stopped  there  in  the  antechamber  of 
the  Maya  gods.  Especially  curious  was  he  at  sight  of  the 
mummy  at  the  end  of  the  line.  The  resemblance  to  him 
was  too  striking  for  him  not  to  see,  and  he  could  not  but 
believe  that  he  was  looking  upon  some  direct  great-an 
cestor  of  his. 

Still  gazing  and  speculating,  he  was  warned  by  ap 
proaching  footsteps,  and  glanced  about  for  some  place 
to  hide.  A  sardonic  humor  seized  him.  Taking  the  hel 
met  from  the  head  of  his  ancient  kin,  he  placed  it  on  his 
own  head.  Likewise  did  he  drape  the  rotton  mantle 
about  his  form,  and  equip  himself  with  the  great  sword 
and  the  great  floppy  boots  that  almost  fell  to  pieces  as 
he  pulled  them  on.  Next,  half  tenderly,  he  deposited  the 
nude  mummy  on  its  back  in  the  dark  shadows  behind  the 
other  mummies.  And,  finally,  in  the  same  spot  at  the  end 
of  the  line,  his  hand  resting  on  the  sword-hilt,  he  assumed 
the  same  posture  he  had  observed  of  the  mummy. 

Only  his  eyes  moved  as  he  observed  the  peon  venturing 
slowly  and  fearfully  along  the  avenue  of  upright  corpses. 
At  sight  of  Torres  he  came  to  an  abrupt  stop  and  with 
wide  eyes  of  dread  muttered  a  succession  of  Maya  prayers. 
Torres,  so  confronted,  could  only  listen  with  closed  eyes 
and  conjecture.  When  he  heard  the  peon  move  on  he 
stole  a  look  and  saw  him  pause  with  apprehension  at  the 
narrow  elbow-turn  of  the  passage  which  he  must  venture 


J94  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

next.     Torres  saw  his  chance  and  swung  the  sword  aloft 
for  the  blow  that  would  split  the  peon's  head  in  twain. 

Though  this  was  the  day  and  the  very  hour  for  the 
peon,  the  last  second  had  not  yet  ticked.  Not  there,  in  the 
thoroughfare  of  the  dead,  was  he  destined  to  die  under 
the  hand  of  Torres.  For  Torres  held  his  hand  and  slowly 
lowered  the  point  of  the  sword  to  the  floor,  while  the 
peon,  passed  on  into  the  elbow. 

The  latter  met  up  with  his  father,  Leoncia,  and  Francis, 
just  as  Francis  was  demanding  the  priest  to  run  the  knots 
again  for  fuller  information  of  the  how  and  what  that 
would  open  the  ear  of  Hzatzl. 

"  Put  your  hand  into  the  mouth  of  Chia  and  draw  forth 
the  key,"  the  old  man  commanded  his  reluctant  son,  who 
went  about  obeying  him  most  gingerly. 

"  She  won't  bite  you  —  she's  stone,"  Francis  laughed 
at  him  in  Spanish. 

'  The  Maya  gods  are  never  stone,"  the  old  man  re 
proved  him.  '  They  seem  to  be  stone,  but  they  are  alive, 
and  ever  alive,  and  under  the  stone,  and  through  the  stone, 
and  by  the  stone,  as  always,  work  their  everlasting  will." 

Leoncia  shuddered  away  from  him  and  clung  against 
Francis,  her  hand  on  his  arm,  as  if  for  protection. 

"  I  know  that  something  terrible  is  going  to  happen," 
she  gasped.  "  I  don't  like  this  place  in  the  heart  of  a 
mountain  among  all  these  dead  old  things..  I  like  the  blue 
of  the  sky  and  the  balm  of  the  sunshine,  and  the  wide 
spread  of  the  sea.  Something  terrible  is  going  to  happen. 
I  know  that  something  terrible  is  going  to  happen." 

While  Francis  reassured  her,  the  last  seconds  of  the 
last  minute  for  the  peon  were  ticking  off.  And  when, 
summoning  all  his  courage,  he  thrust  his  hand  into  the 
mouth  of  the  goddess,  the  last  second  ticked  and  the  clock 
struck.  With  a  scream  of  terror  he  pulled  back  his  hand 
and  gazed  at  the  wrist  where  a  tiny  drop  of  blood  exuded 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  195 

directly  above  an  artery.  The  mottled  head  of  a  snake 
thrust  forth  like  a  mocking,  derisive  tongue  and  drew 
back  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  the  mouth  of  the 
goddess. 

"  A  viperine!  "  screamed  Leoncia,  recognizing  the  rep 
tile. 

And  the  peon,  likewise  recognizing  the  viperine  and 
knowing  his  certain  death  by  it,  recoiled  backward  in  hor 
ror,  stepped  into  the  hole,  and  vanished  down  the  nothing 
ness  which  Chia  had  guarded  with  her  feet  for  so  many 
centuries. 

For  a  'full  minute  nobody  spoke,  then  the  old  priest 
said : 

"  I  have  angered  Chia,  and  she  has  slain  my  son." 

"  Nonsense,"  Francis  was  comforting  Leoncia.  "  The 
whole  thing  is  natural  and  explainable.  What  more  nat 
ural  than  that  a  viperine  should  choose  a  hole  in  a  rock 
for  a  lair?  It  is  the  way  of  snakes.  What  more  natural 
than  that  a  man,  bitten  by  a  viperine,  should  step  back 
ward  ?  And  what  more  natural,  with  a  hole  behind  him, 
that  he  should  fall  into  it  — 

"  That  is  then  just  natural !  "  she  cried,  pointing  to  a 
stream  of  crystal  water  which  boiled  up  over  the  lips  of 
the  hole  and  fountained  up  in  the  air  like  a  geyser.  "  He 
is  right.  Through  stone  itself  the  gods  work  their  ever 
lasting  will.  He  warned  us.  He  knew  from  reading  the 
knots  of  the  sacred  tassel." 

"  Piffle !  "  Francis  snorted.  "  Not  the  will  of  the  gods, 
but  of  the  ancient  Maya  priests  who  invented  their  gods 
as  well  as  this  particular  device.  Somewhere  down  that 
hole  the  peon's  body  struck  the  lever  that  opened  stone 
flood-gates.  And  thus  was  released  some  subterrenean 
body  of  water  in  the  mountain.  This  is  that  water.  No 
goddess  with  a  monstrous  mouth  like  that  could  ever  have 
existed  save  in  the  monstrous  imaginations  of  men. 


196  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Beauty  and  divinity  are  one.  A  real  and  true  goddess  is 
always  beautiful.  Only  man  creates  devils  in  all  their 
ugliness." 

So  large  was  the  stream  that  already  the  water  was 
about  their  ankles. 

"  It's  all  right,"  Francis  said.  "  I  noticed,  all  the  way 
from  the  entrance,  the  steady  inclined  plane  of  the  floors 
of  the  rooms  and  passages.  Those  old  Mayas  were  en 
gineers,  and  they  built  with  an  eye  on  drainage.  See  how 
the  water  rushes  away  out  through  the  passage. —  Well, 
old  man,  read  your  knots.  Where  is  the  treasure  ?  " 

'Where  is  my  son?"  the  old  man  counter-demanded 
in  dull  and  hopeless  tones.  "  Chia  has  slain  my  only  born. 
For  his  mother  I  broke  the  Maya  law  and  stained  the  pure 
Maya  blood  with  the  mongrel  blood  of  a  woman  of  the 
tierra  caliente.  Because  I  sinned  for  him  that  he  might 
be,  is  he  thrice  precious  to  me.  What  care  I  for  treas 
ure?  My  son  is  gone.  The  wrath  of  the  Maya  gods  is 
upon  me." 

With  gurglings  and  burblings  and  explosive  air-bub- 
blings  that  advertised  the  pressure  behind,  the  water 
fountained  high  as  ever  into  the  air.  Leoncia  was  the 
first  to  notice  the  rising  depth  of  the  water  on  the  cham 
ber  floor. 

"  It  is  half  way  to  my  knees,"  she  drew  Francis'  at 
tention. 

"  And  time  to  get  out,"  he  agreed,  grasping  the  situa 
tion.  "  The  drainage  was  excellently  planned,  perhaps. 
But  that  slide  of  rocks  at  the  cliff  entrance  has  evidently 
blocked  the  planned  way  of  the  water.  In  the  other  pas 
sages,  being  lower,  the  water  is  deeper,  of  course,  than 
here.  Yet  is  it  already  rising  here  on  the  general  level. 
And  that  way  lies  the  only  way  out.  Come !  " 

Thrusting  Leoncia  to  lead  in  the  place  of  safety,  he 
caught  the  apathetic  priest  by  the  hand  and  dragged  him 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  IQ7 

after.  At  the  entrance  of  the  elbow  turn  the  water  was 
boiling  above  their  knees.  It  was  to  their  waists  as  they 
emerged  into  the  chamber  of  mummies. 

And  out  of  the  water,  confronting  Leoncia's  astounded 
gaze,  arose  the  helmeted  head  and  ancient-mantled  body 
of  a  mummy.  Not  this  alone  would  have  astounded  her, 
for  other  mummies  were  over  toppling,  falling  and  being 
washed  about  in  the  swirling  waters.  But  this  mummy 
moved  and  made  gasping  noises  for  breath,  and  with 
eyes  of  life  stared  into  her  eyes. 

It  was  too  much  for  ordinary  human  nature  to  bear  - 
a  four-centuries-old  corpse  dying  the  second  death  by 
drowning.  Leoncia  screamed,  sprang  backward,  and  fled 
the  way  she  had  come,  while  Francis,  in  his  own  way 
equally  startled,  let  her  go  past  as  he  drew  his  automatic 
pistol.  But  the  mummy,  finding  footing  in  the  swift  rush 
of  the  current,  cried  out : 

"  Don't  shoot !  It  is  I  -  -  Torres !  I  have  just  come 
back  from  the  entrance.  Something  has  happened.  The 
way  is  blocked.  The  water  is  over  one's  head  and  higher 
than  the  entrance,  and  rocks  are  falling." 

"  And  your  way  is  blocked  in  this  direction,"  Francis 
said,  aiming  the  revolver  at  him. 

"  This  is  no  time  for  quarreling,"  Torres  replied. 
"  We  must  save  all  our  lives,  and  afterward,  if  quarrel 
we  must,  then  quarrel  we  will." 

Francis  hesitated. 

"  What  is  happening  to  Leoncia  ?  "  Torres  demanded 
slyly.  "  I  saw  her  run  back.  May  she  not  be  in  dan 
ger  by  herself  ?" 

Letting  Torres  live  and  dragging  the  old  man  by  the 
arm,  Francis  waded  back  to  the  chamber  of  the  idols, 
followed  by  Torres.  Here,  at  sight  of  him,  Leoncia 
screamed  her  horror  again. 

"  It's  only  Torres,"  Francis  reassured  her.     "  He  gave 


198  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

me  a  devil  of  a  fright  myself  when  I  first  saw  him.  But 
he's  real  flesh.  He'll  bleed  if  a  knife  is  stuck  into  him. 
—  Come,  old  man !  We  don't  want  to  drown  here  like 
rats  in  a  trap.  This  is  not  all  of  the  Maya  mysteries. 
Read  the  tale  of  the  knots  and  get  us  out  of  this." 

"  The  way  is  not  out  but  in"  the  priest  quavered. 

"  And  we're  not  particular  so  long  as  we  get  away. 
But  how  can  we  go  in?  " 

"  From  the  mouth  of  Chia  to  the  ear  of  Hzatzl,"  was 
the  answer. 

Francis  was  struck  by  a  sudden  grotesque  and  terrible 
thought. 

'''  Torres,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  key  or  something  inside 
that  stone  lady's  mouth  there.  You're  the  nearest.  Stick 
your  hand  in  and  get  it." 

Leoncia  gasped  with  horror  as  she  divined  Francis' 
vengeance.  Of  this  Torres  took  no  notice,  and  gayly 
waded  toward  the  goddess,  saying :  "  Only  too  glad  to 
be  of  service." 

And  then  Francis'  sense  of  fair  play  betrayed  him. 

"  Stop !  "  he  commanded  harshly,  himself  wading  to  the 
idol's  side. 

And  Torres,  at  first  looking  on  in  puzzlement,  saw 
what  he  had  escaped.  Several  times  Francis  fired  his 
pistol  into  the  stone  mouth,  while  the  old  priest  moaned 
"  Sacrilege!  "  Next,  wrapping  his  coat  around  his  arm 
and  hand,  he  groped  into  the  mouth  and  pulled  out  the 
wounded  viper  by  the  tail.  With  quick  swings  in  the 
air  he  beat  its  head  to  a  jelly  against  the  goddess'  side. 

Wrapping  his  hand  and  arm  again  against  the  possi 
bility  of  a  second  snake,  Francis  thrust  his  hand  into  the 
wouth  and  drew  forth  a  piece  of  worked  gold  of  the  shape 
and  size  of  the  hole  in  Hzatzl's  ear.  The  old  man  pointed 
to  the  ear,  and  Francis  inserted  the  key. 

"  Like  a  nickel-in-the-slot  machine,"  he  remarked,  as 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  199 

the  key  disappeared  from  sight.  "  Now  what's  going  to 
happen?  Let's  watch  for  the  water  to  drain  suddenly 
away." 

But  the  great  stream  continued  to  spout  unabated  out 
of  the  hole.  With  an  exclamation,  Torres  pointed  to  the 
wall,  an  apparently  solid  portion  of  which  was  slowly 
rising. 

"  The  way  out,"  said  Torres. 

"  In,  as  the  old  man  said,"  Francis  corrected.  "  Well, 
anyway,  let's  start." 

All  were  through  and  well  along  the  narrow  passage 
beyond,  when  the  old  Maya,  crying  "  My  son!  "  turned 
and  ran  back. 

The  section  of  wall  was  already  descending  into  its  or 
iginal  place,  and  the  priest  had  to  crouch  low  in  order  to 
pass  under  it.  A  moment  later,  it  stopped  in  its  old 
position.  So  accurately  was  it  contrived  and  fitted  that 
it  immediately  shut  off  the  stream  of  water  which  had 
been  flowing  out  of  the  idol  room. 

Outside,  save  for  a  small  river  of  water  that  flowed  out 
of  the  base  of  the  cliff,  there  were  no  signs  of  what  was 
vexing  the  interior  of  the  mountain.  Henry  and  Ricardo, 
arriving,  noted  the  stream,  and  Henry  observed: 

"  That's  something  new.  There  wasn't  any  stream  of 
water  here  when  I  left." 

A  minute  later  he  was  saying,  as  he  looked  at  a  fresh 
slide  of  rock :  "  This  was  the  entrance  to  the  cave.  Now 
there  is  no  entrance.  I  wonder  where  the  others  are." 

As  if  in  answer,  out  of  the  mountain,  borne  by  the 
spouting  stream,  shot  the  body  of  a  man.  Henry  and 
Ricardo  pounced  upon  it  and  dragged  it  clear.  Recog 
nizing  it  for  the  priest,  Henry  laid  him  face  downward, 
squatted  astride  of  him,  and  proceeded  to  give  him  the 
first  aid  for  the  drowned." 


2OO  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Not  for  ten  minutes  did  the  old  man  betray  signs  of 
life,  and  not  until  after  another  ten  minutes  did  he  open 
his  eyes  and  look  wildly  about. 

"  Where  are  they?  "  Henry  asked. 

The  old  priest  muttered  in  Maya,  until  Henry  shook 
more  thorough  consciousness  into  him. 

"  Gone  —  all  gone,"  he  gasped  in  Spanish. 

"  Who  ?  "  Henry  demanded,  shook  memory  into  the 
resuscitated  one,  and  demanded  again. 

"  My  son,  Chia  slew  him.  Chia  slew  my  son,  as  she 
slew  them  all." 

"Who  are  the  rest?" 

Followed  more  shakings  and  repetitions  of  the  ques 
tion. 

"  The  rich  young  Gringo  who  befriended  my  son,  the 
enemy  of  the  rich  young  Gringo  whom  men  call  Torres, 
and  the  young  woman  of  the  Solanos  who  was  the  cause 
of  all  that  happened.  I  warned  you.  She  should  not 
have  come.  Women  are  always  a  curse  in  the  affairs  of 
men.  By  her  presence,  Chia,  who  is  likewise  a  woman, 
was  made  angry.  The  tongue  of  Chia  is  a  viperine.  By 
her  tongue  Chia  struck  and  slew  my  son,  and  the  moun 
tain  vomited  the  ocean  upon  us  there  in  the  heart  of  the 
mountain,  and  all  are  dead,  slain  by  Chia.  Woe  is  me! 
I  have  angered  the  gods.  Woe  is  me!  Woe  is  me! 
And  woe  upon  all  who  would  seek  the  sacred  treasure  to 
filch  it  from  the  gods  of  Maya!  " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MIDWAY  between  the  out-bursting  stream  of  water 
and  the  rock-slide,  Henry  and  Ricardo  stood  in  hurried 
debate.  Beside  them,  crouched  on  the  ground,  moaned 
and  prayed  the  last  priest  of  the  Mayas.  From  him,  by 
numerous  shakings  that  served  to  clear  his  addled  old 
head,  Henry  had  managed  to  extract  a  rather  vague  ac 
count  of  what  had  occurred  inside  the  mountain. 

"  Only  his  son  was  bitten  and  fell  into  that  hole," 
Henry  reasoned  hopefully. 

"  That's  right,"  Ricardo  concurred.  "  He  never  saw 
any  damage,  beyond  a  wetting,  happen  to  the  rest  of 
them." 

"  And  they  may  be,  right  now,  high  up  above  the  flood 
in  some  chamber,"  Henry  went  on.  "  Now,  if  we  could 
attack  the  slide,  we  might  open  up  the  cave  and  drain  the 
water  off.  If  they're  alive  they  can  last  for  many  days, 
for  lack  of  water  is  what  kills  quickly,  and  they've  cer 
tainly  more  water  than  they  know  what  to  do  with.  They 
can  get  along  without  food  for  a  long  time.  But  what 
gets  me  is  how  Torres  got  inside  with  them." 

"  Wonder  if  he  wasn't  responsible  for  that  attack  of 
the  Caroos  upon  us,"  Ricardo  suggested. 

But  Henry  scouted  the  idea. 

"  Anyway,"  he  said,  "  that  isn't  the  present  proposition 
—  which  proposition  is :  how  to  get  inside  that  mountain 
on  the  chance  that  they  are  still  alive.  You  and  I  couldn't 
go  through  that  slide  in  a  month.  If  we  could  get  fifty 
men  to  help,  night  and  day  shifts,  we  might  open  her  up 
in  forty-eight  hours.  So,  the  primary  thing  is  to  get 


202  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  men.  Here's  what  we  must  do.  I'll  take  a  mule 
and  beat  it  back  to  that  Caroo  community  and  promise 
them  the  contents  of  one  of  Francis'  check-books  if  they 
will  tome  and  help.  Failing  that,  I  can  get  up  a  crowd 
in  San  Antonio.  So  here's  where  I  pull  out  on  the  run. 
In  the  meantime,  you  can  work  out  trails  and  bring  up  all 
the  mules,  peons,  grub  and  camp  equipment.  Also,  keep 
your  ears  to  the  cliff  —  they  might  start  signaling  through 
it  with  tappings." 

Into  the  village  of  the  Caroos  Henry  forced  his  mule  — 
much  to  the  reluctance  of  the  mule,  and  equally  as  much 
to  the  astonishment  of  the  Caroos  who  thus  saw  their 
stronghold  invaded  single-handed  by  one  of  the  party 
they  had  attempted  to  annihilate.  They  squatted  about 
their  doors  and  loafed  in  the  sunshine,  under  a  show  of 
lethargy  hiding  the  astonishment  that  tingled  through 
them  and  almost  put  them  on  their  toes.  As  has  been 
ever  the  way,  the  very  daring  of  the  white  man,  over 
savage  and  mongrel  breeds,  in  this  instance  stunned  the 
Caroos  to  inaction.  Only  a  man,  they  could  not  help 
but  reason  in  their  slow  way,  a  superior  man,  a  noble  or 
overriding  man,  equipped  with  potencies  beyond  their 
dreaming,  could  dare  to  ride  into  their  strength  of  num 
bers  on  a  fagged  and  mutinous  mule. 

They  spoke  a  mongrel  Spanish  which  he  could  un 
derstand,  and,  in  turn,  they  understood  his  Spanish;  but 
what  he  told  them  concerning  the  disaster  in  the  sacred 
mountain  had  no  effect  of  rousing  them.  With  impas 
sive  faces,  shrugging  shoulders  of  utmost  indifference, 
they  listened  to  his  proposition  of  a  rescue  and  promise  of 
high  pay  for  their  time. 

"  If  a  mountain  has  swallowed  up  the  Gringos,  then 
is  it  the  will  of  God,  and  who  are  we  to  interfere  between 
God  and  his  will?"  they  replied.  "We  are  poor  men, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  203 

but  we  care  not  to  work  for  any  man,  nor  do  we  care  to 
make  war  upon  God.  Also,  it  was  the  Gringos'  fault. 
This  is  not  their  country.  They  have  no  right  here  play 
ing  pranks  on  our  mountains.  Their  troubles  are  be 
tween  them  and  God.  We  have  troubles  enough  of  our 
own,  and  our  wives  are  unruly." 

Long  after  the  siesta  hour,  on  his  third  and  most  re 
luctant  mule,  Henry  rode  into  sleepy  San  Antonio.  In 
the  main  street,  midway  between  the  court  and  the  jail, 
he  pulled  up  at  sight  of  the  Jefe  Politico  and  the  little  fat 
old  judge,  with,  at  .their  heels,  a  dozen  gendarmes  and  a 
couple  of  wretched  prisoners  —  runaway  peons  from  the 
henequen  plantations  at  Santos.  While  the  judge  and 
the  Jefe  listened  to  Henry's  tale  and  appeal  for  help,  the 
Jefe  gave  one  slow  wink  to  the  judge,  who  was  his  judge, 
his  creature,  body  and  soul  of  him. 

"  Yes,  certainly  we  will  help  you,"  the  Jefe  said  at  the 
end,  stretching  his  arms  and  yawning. 

"  How  soon  can  we  get  the  men  together  and  start?  " 
Henry  demanded  eagerly. 

"  As  for  that,  we  are  very  busy  —  are  we  not,  honor 
able  judge?  "  the  Jefe  replied  with  lazy  insolence. 

"  We  are  very  busy,"  the  judge  yawned  into  Henry's 
face. 

"  Too  busy  for  a  time,"  the  Jefe  went  on.  "  We  regret 
that  not  to-morrow  nor  next  day  shall  we  be  able  to  try 
and  rescue  your  Gringos.  Now,  a  little  later  — 

"  Say  next  Christmas,"  the  judge  suggested. 

"  Yes,"  concurred  the  Jefe  with  a  grateful  bow. 
"  About  next  Christmas  come  around  and  see  us,  and,  if 
the  pressure  of  our  affairs  has  somewhat  eased,  then, 
maybe  possibly,  we  shall  find  it  convenient  to  go  about 
beginning  to  attempt  to  raise  the  expedition  you  have  re 
quested.  In  the  meantime,  good  day  to  you,  Senor  Mor- 
gan." 


204  HEARTS    OF    THREE  \ 

'You  mean  that?"  Henry  demanded  with  wrathful 
face. 

'  The  very  face  he  must  have  worn  when  he  slew  Senor 
Alfaro  Solano  treacherously  from  the  back,"  the  Jefe 
soliloquized  ominously. 

But  Henry  ignored  the  later  insult. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  are,"  he  flamed  in  righteous 
wrath. 

"  Beware !  "  the  judge  cautioned  him. 

"  I  snap  my  fingers  at  you,"  Henry  retorted.  "  You 
have  no  power  over  me.  I  am  a  full-pardoned  man  by 
the  President  of  Panama  himself.  And  this  is  what 
you  are.  You  are  half-breeds.  You  are  mongrel  pigs." 

"  Pray  proceed,  sefior,"  said  the  Jefe,  with  the  suave 
politeness  of  deathly  rage. 

"  You've  neither  the  virtues  of  the  Spaniard  nor  of  the 
Carib,  but  the  vices  of  both  thrice  compounded.  Mon 
grel  pigs,  that's  what  you  are  and  all  you  are,  the  pair 
of  you." 

"  Are  you  through,  sefior?  —  quite  through?  "  the  Jefe 
queried  softly.  . 

At  the  same  moment  he  gave  a  signal  to  the  gendarmes, 
who  sprang  upon  Henry  from  behind  and  disarmed  him. 

"  Even  the  President  of  the  Republic  of  Panama  can 
not  pardon  in  anticipation  of  a  crime  not  yet  committed 
—  am  I  right,  judge?"  said  the  Jefe. 

"  This  is  a  fresh  offense,"  the  judge  took  the  cue 
promptly.  "  This  Gringo  dog  has  blasphemed  against  the 
law." 

"  Then  shall  he  be  tried  and  tried  now,  right  here,  im 
mediately.  We  will  not  bother  to  go  back  and  reopen 
court.  We  shall  try  him,  and  when  we  have  disposed  of 
him,  we  shall  proceed.  I  have  a  very  good  bottle  of 
wine —  " 

"  I  care  not  for  wine,"  the  judge  disclaimed  hastily. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2O5 

"  Mine  shall  be  mescal.  And  in  the  meantime,  and  now, 
having  been  both  witness  and  victim  of  the  offense  and 
there  being  no  need  of  evidence  further  than  what  I  al 
ready  possess,  I  find  the  prisoner  guilty.  Is  there  any 
thing  you  would  suggest,  Sefior  Mariano  Vercara  e 
Hijos?" 

u  Twenty- four  hours  in  the  stocks  to  cool  his  heated 
Gringo  head,"  the  Jefe  answered. 

"  Such  is  the  sentence,"  the  judge  affirmed,  "  to  begin 
at  once.  Take  the  prisoner  away,  gendarmes,  and  put 
him  in  the  stocks." 

Daybreak  found  Henry  in  the  stocks,  with  a  dozen 
hours  of  such  imprisonment  already  behind  him,  lying 
on  his  back  asleep.  But  the  sleep  was  restless,  being 
vexed  subjectively  by  nightmare  dreams  of  his  mountain- 
imprisoned  companions,  and,  objectively,  by  the  stings  of 
countless  mosquitoes.  So  it  was,  twisting  and  squirm 
ing  and  striking  at  the  winged  pests,  he  awoke  to  full  con 
sciousness  of  his  predicament.  And  this  awoke  the  full 
expression  of  his  profanity.  Irritated  beyond  endurance 
by  the  poison  from  a  thousand  mosquito-bites,  he  filled  the 
dawn  so  largely  with  his  curses  as  to  attract  the  attention 
of  a  man  carrying  a  bag  of  tools.  This  was  a  trim- 
figured,  eagle-faced  young  man,  clad  in  the  military  garb 
of  an  aviator  of  the  United  States  Army.  He  deflected 
his  course  so  as  to  come  by  the  stocks,  and  paused,  and  lis 
tened,  and  stared  with  quizzical  admiration. 

"  Friend,"  he  said,  when  Henry  ceased  to  catch  breath. 
"  Last  night,  when  I  found  myself  marooned  here  with 
half  my  outfit  left  on  board,  I  did  a  bit  of  swearing  my 
self.  But  it  was  only  a  trifle  compared  with  yours.  I 
salute  you,  sir.  You've  an  army  teamster  skinned  a  mile. 
Now  if  you  don't  mind  running  over  the  string  again,  I 
shall  be  better  equipped  the  next  time  I  want  to  do  any 
cussing." 


206  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  And  who  in  hell  are  you  ?  "  Henry  demanded.  "  And 
what  in  hell  are  you  doing  here?  " 

11 1  don't  blame  you,"  the  aviator  grinned.  "  With  a 
face  swollen  like  that  you've  got  a  right  to  be  rude.  And 
who  beat  you  up?  In  hell,  I  haven't  ascertained  my 
status  yet.  But  here  on  earth  I  am  known  as  Parsons, 
Lieutenant  Parsons.  I  am  not  doing  anything  in  hell 
as  yet;  but  here  in  Panama  I  am  scheduled  to  fly  across 
this  day  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  Is  there  any 
way  I  may  serve  you  before  I  start?  " 

"  Sure,"  Henry  nodded.  "  Take  a  tool  out  of  that  bag 
of  yours  and  smash  this  padlock.  I'll  get  rheumatism  if 
I  have  to  stick  here  much  longer.  My  name's  Morgan, 
and  no  man  has  beaten  me  up.  Those  are  mosquito- 
bites." 

With  several  blows  of  a  wrench,  Lieutenant  Parsons 
smashed  the  ancient  padlock  and  helped  Henry  to  his 
feet.  Even  while  rubbing  the  circulation  back  into  his 
feet  and  ankles,  Henry,  in  a  rush,  was  telling  the  army 
aviator  of  the  predicament  and  possible  disaster  to  Leon- 
cia  and  Francis. 

"  I  love  that  Francis, "  he  concluded.  "  He  is  the  dead 
spit  of  myself.  We're  more  like  twins,  and  we  must  be 
distantly  related.  As  for  the  sefiorita,  not  only  do  I  love 
her  but  I  am  engaged  to  marry  her.  Now  will  you  help  ? 
Where's  the  machine?  It  takes  a  long  time  to  get  to  the 
Maya  Mountain  on  foot  or  mule-back ;  but  if  you  gave  me 
a  lift  in  your  machine  I'd  be  there  in  no  time,  along  with 
a  hundred  sticks  of  dynamite,  which  you  could  procure 
for  me  and  with  which  I  could  blow  the  side  out  of  that 
mountain  and  drain  off  the  water." 
Lieutenant  Parsons  hesitated. 
"  Say  yes,  Mignon,  say  yes,"  Henry  pleaded. 

Back  in  the  heart  of  the  sacred  mountain,  the  three  im- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2O/ 

prisoned  ones  found  themselves  in  total  darkness  the  in 
stant  the  stone  that  blocked  the  exit  from  the  idol  cham 
ber  had  settled  into  place.  Francis  and  Leoncia  groped 
for  each  other  and  touched  hands.  In  another  moment 
his  arm  was  around  her,  and  the  deliciousness  of  the  con 
tact  robbed  the  situation  of  half  of  its  horror.  Near 
them  they  could  hear  Torres  breathing  heavily.  At  last 
he  muttered : 

"  Mother  of  God,  but  that  was  a  close  shave!  What 
next,  I  wonder?  " 

"  There'll  be  many  nexts  before  we  get  out  of  this 
neck  of  the  woods,"  Francis  assured  him.  "  And  we 
might  as  well  start  getting  out." 

The  method  of  procedure  was  quickly  arranged.  Plac 
ing  Leoncia  behind  him,  her  hand  clutching  the  hem  of 
his  jacket  so  as  to  be  guided  by  him,  he  moved  ahead 
with  his  left  hand  in  contact  with  the  wall.  Abreast  of 
him,  Torres  felt  his  way  along  the  right  hand  wall. 
By  their  voices  they  could  thus  keep  track  of  each  other, 
measure  the  width  of  the  passage,  and  guard  against  be 
ing  separated  into  forked  passages.  Fortunately,  x  the 
tunnel,  for  tunnel  it  truly  was,  had  a  smooth  floor,  so 
that,  while  they  groped  their  way,  they  did  not  stumble. 
Francis  refused  to  use  his  matches  unless  extremity  arose, 
and  took  precaution  against  falling  into  a  possible  pit  by 
cautiously  advancing  one  foot  at  a  time  and  ascertaining 
solid  stone  under  it  ere  putting  on  his  weight.  As  a 
result,  their  progress  was  slow.  At  no  greater  speed 
than  half  a  mile  an  hour  did  they  proceed. 

Once  only  did  they  encounter  branching  passages. 
Here  he  lighted  a  precious  match  from  his  waterproof 
case,  and  found  that  between  the  two  passages  there  was 
nothing  to  choose.  They  were  as  like  as  two  peas. 

"  The  only  way  is  to  try  one,"  he  concluded,  "  and,  if  it 
gets  us  nowhere,  to  retrace  and  try  the  other.  There's 


2C)8  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

one  thing  certain :  these  passages  lead  somewhere,  or  the 
Mayas  wouldn't  have  gone  to  all  the  trouble  of  making 
them." 

Ten  minutes  later  he  halted  suddenly  and  cried  warn 
ing.  ,  The  foot  he  had  advanced  was  suspended  in  empti 
ness  where  the  floor  should  have  been.  Another  match 
was  struck,  and  they  found  themselves  on  the  edge  of  a 
natural  cavern  of  such  proportions  that  neither  to  right 
nor  left,  nor  up  nor  down,  nor  across,  could  the  tiny  flame 
expose  any  limits  to  it.  But  they  did  manage  to  make 
out  a  rough  sort  of  stairway,  half-natural,  half-improved 
by  man,  which  fell  away  beneath  them  into  the  pit  of 
black. 

In  another  hour,  having  followed  the  path  down  the 
length  of  the  floor  of  the  cavern,  they  were  rewarded  by 
a  feeble  glimmer  of  daylight  which  grew  stronger  as  they 
advanced.  Before  they  knew  it,  they  had  come  to  the 
source  of  it  —  being  much  nearer  than  they  had  judged ; 
and  Francis,  tearing  away  vines  and  shubbery,  crawled 
out  into  the  blaze  of  the  afternoon  sun.  In  a  moment 
Leoncia  and  Torres  were  beside  him,  gazing  down  into  a 
valley  from  an  eyrie  on  a  cliff.  Nearly  circular  was  the 
valley,  a  full  league  in  diameter,  and  it  appeared  to  be 
mountain-walled  and  cliff-walled  for  its  entire  circum 
ference. 

"  It  is  the  Valley  of  Lost  Souls,"  Torres  uttered  sol 
emnly.  "  I  have  heard  of  it,  but  never  did  I  believe." 

"  So  have  I  heard  of  it  and  never  believed,"  Leoncia 
gasped. 

"And  what  of  it?"  demanded  Francis.  "We're  not 
lost  souls,  but  good  flesh-and-blood  persons.  We  should 
worry." 

"But  Francis,  listen,"  Leoncia  said.  "The  tales  I 
have  heard  of  it  ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl,  all  agreed 
that  no  person  who  ever  got  into  it  ever  got  out  again." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2OO, 

"  Granting  that  that  is  so  -  '  Francis  could  not  help 
smiling—  "  then  how  did  the  tales  come  out?  If  no 
body  ever  came  out  again  to  tell  about  it,  how  does  it 
happen  that  everybody  outside  knows  about  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Leoncia  admitted.  "  I  only  tell  you 
what  I  have  heard.  Besides,  I  never  believed.  But  this 
answers  all  the  descriptions  of  the  tales." 

"  Nobody  ever  got  out,"  Torres  affirmed  with  the  same 
solemn  utterance. 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  that  anybody  got  in  ?  "  Fran 
cis  persisted. 

"  All  the  lost  souls  live  here/'  was  the  reply.  "  That 
is  why  we've  never  seen  them,  because  they  never  get  out. 
I  tell  you,  Mr.  Francis  Morgan,  that  I  am  no  creature 
without  reason.  I  have  been  educated.  I  have  studied 
in  Europe,  and  I  have  done  business  in  your  own  New 
York.  I  know  science  and  philosophy;  and  yet  do  I 
know  that  this  is  the  valley,  once  in,  from  which  no  one 
emerges." 

"  Well,  we're  not  in  yet,  are  we?  "  retorted  Francis  with 
a  slight  manifestation  of  impatience.  "  And  we  don't 
have  to  go  in,  do  we?"  He  crawled  forward  to  the 
verge  of  the  shelf  of  loose  soil  and  crumbling  stone  in 
order  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  distant  object  his  eye 
had  just  picked  out.  "If  that  isn't  a  grass-thatched 
roof- 

And  at  that  moment  the  soil  broke  away  under  his 
hands.  In  a  flash,  the  whole  soft  slope  on  which  they 
rested  broke  away,  and  all  three  were  sliding  and  rolling 
down  the  steep  slope  in  the  midst  of  a  miniature  avalanche 
of  soil,  gravel,  and  grass-tufts. 

The  two  men  picked  themselves  up  first,  in  the  thicket 
of  bushes  which  had  arrested  them ;  but,  before  they  could 
get  to  Leoncia,  she,  too,  was  up  and  laughing. 

"  Just  as  you  were  saying  we  didn't  have  to  go  into  the 


210  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

valley!"  she  gurgled  at  Francis.  "Now  will  you  be 
lieve?" 

But  Francis  was  busy.  Reaching  out  his  hand,  he 
caught  and  stopped  a  familiar  object  bounding  down  the 
steep  slope  after  them.  It  was  Torres'  helmet  pur 
loined  from  the  chamber  of  mummies,  and  to  Torres  he 
tossed  it. 

'  Throw  it  away,"  Leoncia  said. 

"  It's  the  only  protection  against  the  sun  I  possess," 
was  his  reply,  as,  turning  it  over  in  his  hands,  his  eyes 
lighted  upon  an  inscription  on  the  inside.  He  showed  it 
to  his  companions,  reading  it  aloud: 

"  DA  VASCO." 

"  I  have  heard,"  Leoncia  breathed. 

"  And  you  heard  right,"  Torres  nodded.  "  Da  Vasco 
was  my  direct  ancestor.  My  mother  was  a  Da  Vasco. 
He  came  over  the  Spanish  Main  with  Cortez." 

"  He  mutinied,"  Leoncia  took  up  the  tale.  "  I  remem 
ber  it  well  from  my  father  and  from  my  Uncle  Alfaro. 
With  a  dozen  comrades  he  sought  the  Maya  treasure. 
They  led  a  sea-tribe  of  Caribs,  an  hundred  strong  in 
cluding  their  women,  as  auxiliaries.  Mendoza,  under 
Cortez'  instructions,  pursued ;  and  his  report,  in  the 
archives,  so  Uncle  Alfaro  told  me,  says  that  they  were 
driven  into  the  Valley  of  the  Lost  Souls  where  they  were 
left  to  perish  miserably." 

"  And  he  evidently  tried  to  get  out  by  the  way  we've 
just  come  in,"  Torres  continued,  "  and  the  Mayas  caught 
him  and  made  a  mummy  of  him." 

He  jammed  the  ancient  helmet  down  on  his  head, 
saying : 

"  Low  as  the  sun  is  in  the  afternoon  sky,  it  bites  my 
crown  like  acid." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  211 

"  And  famine  bites  at  me  like  acid,"  Francis  confessed. 
"Is  the  valley  inhabited?'' 

"  I  should  know,  sefior,"  Torres  replied.  "  There  is 
the  narrative  of  Mendoza,  in  which  he  reported  that  Da 
Vasco  and  his  party  were  left  there  '  to  perish  miserably.' 
This  I  do  know:  they  were  never  seen  again  of  man." 

"  Looks  as  though  plenty  of  food  could  be  grown  in  a 
place  like  this  —  '  Francis  began,  but  broke  off  at  sight 
of  Leoncia  picking  berries  from  a  bush.  "  Here!  Stop 
that,  Leoncia !  We've  got  enough  troubles  without 
having  a  very  charming  but  very  much  poisoned  young 
woman  on  our  hands." 

"  They're  all  right,"  she  said,  calmly  eating.  "  You 
can  see  where  the  birds  have  been  pecking  and  eating 
them. 

"  In  which  case  I  apologize  and  join  you,"  Francis 
cried,  filling  his  mouth  with  the  luscious  fruit.  "  And  if 
I  could  catch  the  birds  that  did  the  pecking,  I'd  eat  them 
too." 

By  the  time  they  had  eased  the  sharpest  of  their  hun 
ger-pangs,  the  sun  was  so  low  that  Torres  removed  the 
helmet  of  Da  Vasco. 

"  We  might  as  well  stop  here  for  the  night,"  he  said. 
"  I  left  my  shoes  in  the  cave  with  the  mummies,  and  lost 
Da  Vasco's  old  boots  during  the  swimming.  My  feet  are 
cut  to  ribbons,  and  there's  plenty  of  seasoned  grass  here 
out  of  which  I  can  plait  a  pair  of  sandals." 

While  occupied  with  this  task,  Francis  built  a  fire  and 
gathered  a  supply  of  wood,  for,  despite  the  low  latitude, 
the  high  altitude  made  fire  a  necessity  for  a  night's  lodg 
ing.  Ere  he  had  completed  the  supply,  Leoncia,  curled 
up  on  her  side,  her  head  in  the  hollow  of  her  arm,  was 
sound  asleep.  Against  the  side  of  her  away  from  the 
fire,  Francis  thoughtfully  packed  a  mound  of  dry  leaves 
and  dry  forest  mold. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

DAYBREAK  in  the  Valley  of  the  Lost  Souls,  and  the 
Long  House  in  the  village  of  the  Tribe  of  the  Lost  Souls. 
Fully  eighty  feet  in  length  was  the  Long  House,  with 
half  as  much  in  width,  built  of  adobe  bricks,  and  rising 
thirty  feet  to  a  gable  roof  thatched  with  straw.  Out  of 
the  house  feebly  walked  the  Priest  of  the  Sun  —  an  old 
man,  tottery  on  his  legs,  sandal-footed,  clad  in  a  long 
robe  of  rude  homespun  cloth,  in  whose  withered  Indian 
face  were  haunting  reminiscences  of  the  racial  linea 
ments  of  the  ancient  conquistadores.  On  his  head  was 
a  curious  cap  of  gold,  arched  over  by  a  semi-circle  of  pol 
ished  golden  spikes.  The  effect  was  obvious,  namely  the 
rising  sun  and  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun. 

He  tottered  across  the  open  space  to  where  a  great  hol 
low  log  swung  suspended  between  two  posts  carved  with 
totemic  and  heraldic  devices.  He  glanced  at  the  eastern 
horizon,  already  red  with  the  dawning,  to  reassure  him 
self  that  he  was  on  time,  lifted  a  stick,  the  end  of  which 
was  fiber-woven  into  a  ball,  and  struck  the  hollow  log. 
Feeble  as  he  was,  and  light  as  was  the  blow,  the  hollow 
log  boomed  and  reverberated  like  distant  thunder. 

Almost  immediately,  while  he  continued  slowly  to  beat, 
from  the  grass-thatched  dwellings  that  formed  the  square 
about  the  Long  House,  emerged  the  Lost  Souls.  Men 
and  women,  old  and  young,  and  children  and  babes  in 
arms,  they  all  came  out  and  converged  upon  the  Sun 
Priest.  No  more  archaic  spectacle  could  be  witnessed  in 
the  twentieth-century  world.  Indians,  indubitably  they 
were,  yet  in  many  of  their  faces  were  the  racial  reminis 
cences  of  the  Spaniard.  Some  faces,  to  all  appearance, 
were  all  Spanish.  Others,  by  the  same  token,  were  all 

212 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  213 

Indian.  But  betwixt  and  between,  the  majority  of  them 
betrayed  the  inbred  blend  of  both  races.  But  more 
bizarre  was  their  costume  —  unremarkable  in  the  women, 
who  were  garbed  in  long,  discreet  robes  of  homespun 
cloth,  but  most  remarkable  in  the  men,  whose  homespun 
was  grotesquely  fashioned  after  the  style  of  Spanish  dress 
that  obtained  in  Spain  at  the  time  of  Columbus'  first  voy 
age.  Homely  and  sad-looking  were  the  men  and  women 
—  as  of  a  breed  too  closely  interbred  to  retain  joy  of  life. 
This  was  true  of  the  youths  and  maidens,  of  the  children, 
and  of  the  very  babes  against  breasts  —  true  with  the 
exception  of  two,  one,  a  child-girl  of  ten,  in  whose  face 
was  fire,  and  spirit,  and  intelligence.  Amongst  the  sod 
den  faces  of  the  sodden  and  stupid  Lost  Souls,  her  face 
stood  out  like  a  flaming  flower.  Only  like  hers,  was  the 
face  of  the  old  Sun  Priest,  cunning,  crafty,  intelligent. 

While  the  priest  continued  to  beat  the  resounding  log, 
the  entire  tribe  formed  about  him  in  a  semi-circle,  facing 
the  east.  As  the  sun  showed  the  edge  of  its  upper  rim, 
the  priest  greeted  it  and  hailed  it  with  quaint  and  medieval 
Spanish,  himself  making  low  obeisance  thrice  repeated, 
while  the  tribe  prostrated  itself.  And,  when  the  full  sun 
shone  clear  of  the  horizon,  all  the  tribe,  under  the  direc 
tion  of  the  priest,  arose  and  uttered  a  joyful  chant.  Just 
as  he  had  dismissed  his  people,  a  thin  pillar  of  smoke, 
rising  in  the  quiet  air  across  the  valley  caught  the  priest's 
eye.  He  pointed  it  out,  and  commanded  several  of  the 
young  men. 

"  It  rises  in  the  Forbidden  Place  of  Fear  where  no 
member  of  the  tribe  may  wander.  It  is  some  devil  of 
a  pursuer  sent  out  by  our  enemies  who  have  vainly  sought 
our  hiding-place  through  the  centuries.  He  must  not 
escape  to  make  report,  for  our  enemies  are  powerful,  and 
we  shall  be  destroyed.  Go.  Kill  him  that  we  may  not 
be  killed. 


214  HEARTS   OF   THREE 

About  the  fire,  which  had  been  replenished  at  intervals 
throughout  the  night,  Leoncia,  Francis,  and  Torres  lay 
asleep,  the  latter  with  his  new-made  sandals  on  his  feet 
and  with  the  helmet  of  Da  Vasco  pulled  tightly  down  on 
his  head  to  keep  off  the  dew.  Leoncia  was  the  first  to 
awaken,  and  so  curious  was  the  scene  that  confronted 
her,  that  she  watched  quietly  through  her  down-drooped 
lashes.  Three  of  the  strange  Lost  Tribe  men,  bows  still 
stretched  and  arrows  drawn  in  what  was  evident  to  her 
as  the  interrupted  act  of  slaying  her  and  her  companions, 
were  staring  with  amazement  at  the  face  of  the  uncon 
scious  Torres.  They  looked  at  each  other  in  doubt,  let 
their  bows  straighten,  and  shook  their  heads  in  patent 
advertisement  that  they  were  not  going  to  kill.  Closer 
they  crept  upon  Torres,  squatting  on  their  hams  the  better 
to  scrutinize  his  face  and  the  helmet,  which  latter  seemed 
to  arouse  their  keenest  interest. 

From  where  she  lay,  Leoncia  was  able  privily  to  nudge 
Francis'  shoulder  with  her  foot.  He  awoke  quietly,  and 
quietly  sat  up,  attracting  the  attention  of  the  strangers. 
Immediately  they  made  the  universal  peace  sign,  laying 
down  their  bows  and  extending  their  palms  outward  in 
token  of  being  weaponless. 

"  Good  morning,  merry  strangers,"  Francis  addressed 
them  in  English,  which  made  them  shake  their  heads  while 
it  aroused  Torres. 

"  They  must  be  Lost  Souls,"  Leoncia  whispered  to 
Francis. 

"  Or  real  estate  agents,"  he  smiled  back.  "  At  least 
the  valley  is  inhabited- — Torres,  who're  your  friends? 
From  the  way  they  regard  you,  one  would  think  they  were 
relatives  of  yours." 

Quite  ignoring  them,  the  three  Lost  Souls  drew  apart 
a  slight  distance  and  debated  in  low  sibilant  tones. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  215 


"  Sounds  like  a  queer  sort  of  Spanish,"  Francis  ob 
served. 

"  It's  medieval,  to  say  the  least,"  Leoncia  confirmed. 

"  It's  the  Spanish  of  the  conquistadores  pretty  badly 
gone  to  seed,"  Torres  contributed.  "  You  see  I  was  right. 
The  Lost  Souls  never  get  away." 

"  At  any  rate  they  must  give  and  be  given  in  marriage," 
Francis  quipped,  "  else  how  explain  these  three  young 
huskies?" 

But  by  this  time,  the  three  huskies,  having  reached 
agreement,  were  beckoning  them  with  encouraging  ges 
tures  to  follow  across  the  valley. 

"  They're  good-natured  and  friendly  cusses,  to  say  the 
least,  despite  their  sorrowful  mugs,"  said  Francis,  as  they 
prepared  to  follow.  "  But  did  you  ever  see  a  sadder- 
faced  aggregation  in  your  life?  They  must  have  been 
born  in  the  dark  of  the  moon,  or  had  all  their  sweet 
gazelles  die,  or  something  or  other  worse." 

"  It's  just  the  kind  of  faces  one  would  expect  of  lost 
souls,"  Leoncia  answered. 

"  And  if  we  never  get  out  of  here,  I  suppose  we'll  get 
to  looking  a  whole  lot  sadder  than  they  do,"  he  came  back. 
"  Anyway,  I  hope  they're  leading  us  to  breakfast.  Those 
berries  were  better  than  nothing,  but  that  is  not  saying 
much." 

An  hour  or  more  afterward,  still  obediently  following 
their  guides,  they  emerged  upon  the  clearings,  the  dwell 
ing  places,  and  the  Long  House  of  the  tribe. 

"  These  are  descendants  of  Da  Vasco's  party  and  the 
Caribs,"  Torres  affirmed,  as  he  glanced  over  the  assembled 
faces.  u  That  is  incontrovertible  on  the  face  of  it." 

"  And  they've  relapsed  from  the  Christian  religion  of 
Da  Vasco  to  old  heathen  worship,"  added  Francis. 
"  Look  at  that  altar  —  there.  It's  a  stone  altar,  and 


2l6  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

from  the  smell  of  it,  that  is  no  breakfast,  but  a  sacrifice 
that  is  cooking,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  smells  like  mut 
ton/' 

'  Thank  heaven  it's  only  a  lamb,"  Leoncia  breathed. 
"  The  old  Sun  Worship  included  human  sacrifice.  And 
this  is  Sun  Worship.  See  that  old  man  there  in  the  long 
shroud  with  the  golden- rayed  cap  of  gold.  He's  a  sun 
priest.  Uncle  Alfaro  has  told  me  all  about  the  sun-wor-^ 
shipers." 

Behind  and  above  the  altar,  was  a  great  metal  image 
of  the  sun. 

"  Gold,  all  gold,"  Francis  whispered,  "  and  without  al 
loy.  Look  at  those  spikes,  the  size  of  them,  yet  so  pure 
is  the  metal  that  I  wager  a  child  could  bend  them  any  way 
it  wished  and  even  tie  knots  in  them." 

"  Merciful  God!  —  look  at  that!  "  Leoncia  gasped,  in 
dicating  with  her  eyes  a  crude  stone  bust  that  stood  to  one 
side  of  the  altar  and  slightly  lower.  "  It  is  the  face  of 
Torres.  It  is  the  face  of  the  mummy  in  the  Maya  cave." 

"  And  there  is  an  inscription  —  "  Francis  stepped 
closer  to  see  and  was  peremptorily  waved  back  by  the 
priest.  "  It  says,  '  Da  Vasco.'  Notice  that  it  has  the 
same  sort  of  helmet  that  Torres  is  wearing.  —  And, 
say!  Glance  at  the  priest!  If  he  doesn't  look  like 
Torres'  full  brother, -I've  never  fancied  a  resemblance  in 
my  life!" 

The  priest,  with  angry  face  and  imperative  gesture, 
motioned  Francis  to  silence,  and  made  obeisance  to  the 
cooking  sacrifice.  As  if  in  response,  a  flaw  of  wind  put 
out  the  flame  of  the  cooking. 

"  The  Sun  God  is  angry,"  the  priest  announced  with 
great  solemnity,  his  queer  Spanish  nevertheless  being  in 
telligible  to  the  newcomers.  "  Strangers  have  come 
among  us  and  remain  unslain.  That  is  why  the  Sun  God 
is  angry.  Speak,  you  young  men  who  have  brought  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  217 

strangers  alive  to  our  altar.  Was  not  my  bidding,  which 
is  ever  and  always  the  bidding  of  the  Sun  God,  that  you 
should  slay  them?  " 

One  of  the  three  young  men  stepped  tremblingly  forth, 
and  with  trembling  forefinger  pointed  at  the  face  of  Torres 
and  at  the  face  of  the  stone  bust. 

"  We  recognize  him,"  he  quavered,  "  and  we  could  not 
slay  him  for  we  remembered  prophecy  and  that  our  great 
ancestor  would  some  day  return.  Is  this  stranger  he? 
We  do  not  know.  We  dare  not  know  or  judge.  Yours, 
O  Priest,  is  the  knowledge,  and  yours  be  the  judgment. 
Is  this  he?" 

The  priest  looked  closely  at  Torres  and  exclaimed  in 
coherently.  Turning  his  back  abruptly,  he  rekindled  the 
sacred  cooking  fire  from  a  pot  of  fire  at  the  base  of  an 
altar.  But  the  fire  flamed  up,  flickered  down,  and  died. 

"  The  Sun  God  is  angry,"  the  priest  reiterated;  whereat 
the  Lost  Souls  beat  their  breasts  and  moaned  and  lament 
ed.  "The  sacrifice  is  unacceptable,  for  the  fire  will  not 
burn.  Strange  things  are  afoot.  This  is  a  matter  of 
the  deeper  mysteries  which  I  alone  may  know.  We  shall 
not  sacrifice  the  strangers  .  .  .  now.  I  must  take  time  to 
inform  myself  of  the  Sun  God's  will." 

With  his  hand  he  waved  the  tribespeople  away,  ceas 
ing  the  ceremonial  half -completed,  and  directed  that  the 
three  captives  be  taken  into  the  Long  House. 

"  I  can't  follow  the  play,"  Francis  whispered  in  Leon- 
cia's  ear,  "  but  just  the  same  I  hope  here's  where  we  eat." 

"  Look  at  that  pretty  little  girl,"  said  Leoncia,  indi 
cating  with  her  eyes  the  child  with  the  face  and  fire  and 
spirit. 

"  Torres  has  already  spotted  her,"  Francis  whispered 
back.  "  I  caught  him  winking  at  her.  He  doesn't  know 
the  play,  nor  which  way  the  cat  will  jump,  but  he  isn't 
missing  a  chance  to  make  friends.  We'll  have  to  keep  an 


2l8  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

eye  on  him,  for  he's  a  treacherous  hound  and  capable  of 
throwing  us  over  any  time  if  it  would  serve  to  save  his 
skin." 

Inside  the  Long  House,  seated  on  'rough-plaited  mats 
of  grass,  they  found  themselves  quickly  served  with  food. 
Clear  drinking  water  and  a  thick  stew  of  meat  and  veg 
etables  were  served  in  generous  quantity  in  queer,  un- 
glazed  pottery  jars.  Also,  they  were  given  hot  cakes  of 
ground  Indian  corn  that  were  not  altogether  unlike  tor 
tillas. 

After  the  women  who  served  had  departed,  the  little 
girl,  who  had  led  them  and  commanded  them,  remained. 
Torres  resumed  his  overtures,  but  she,  graciously  ignor 
ing  him,  devoted  herself  to  Leoncia  who  seemed  to  fasci 
nate  her. 

"  She's  a  sort  of  hostess,  I  take  it,"  Francis  explained. 
'  You  know  —  like  the  maids  of  the  village  in  Samoa, 
who  entertain  all  travelers  and  all  visitors  of  no  matter 
how  high  rank,  and  who  come  pretty  close  to  presiding 
at  all  functions  and  ceremonials.  They  are  selected  by 
the  high  chiefs  for  their  beauty,  their  virtue,  and  their 
intelligence.  And  this  one  reminds  me  very  much  of 
them,  except  that  she's  so  awfully  young." 

Closer  she  came  to  Leoncia,  and,  fascinated  though  she 
patently  was  by  the  beautiful  strange  woman,  in  her 
bearing  of  approach  was  no  hint  of  servility  nor  sense 
of  inferiority. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  in  the  quaint  archaic  Spanish  of 
the  valley,  "  is  that  man  really  Capitan  Da  Vasco  re 
turned  from  his  .home  in  the  sun  in  the  sky?  " 

Torres  smirked  and  bowed,  and  proclaimed  proudly: 
"  I  am  a  Da  Vasco." 

"  Not  a  Da  Vasco,  but  Da  Vasco  himself,"  Leoncia 
coached  him  in  English. 

"  It's  a  good  bet  —  play  it !  "  Francis  commanded,  like- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2IQ 

wise  in  English.  "  It  may  pull  us  all  out  of  a  hole. 
I'm  not  particularly  stuck  on  that  priest,  and  he  seems 
the  high-cockalorum  over  these  Lost  Souls." 

"  I  have  at  last  come  back  from  the  sun,"  Torres  told 
the  little  maid,  taking  his  cue. 

She  favored  him  with  a  long  and  unwavering  look,  in 
which  they  could  see  her  think,  and  judge,  and  appraise. 
Then,  with  expressionless  face,  she  bowed  to  him  re 
spectfully,  and,  with  scarcely  a  glance  at  Francis,  turned 
to  Leoncia  and  favored  her  with  a  friendly  smile  that 
was  an  illumination. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  God  made  women  so  beautiful 
as  you,"  the  little  maid  said  softly,  ere  she  turned  to  go 
out.  At  the  door  she  paused  to  add,  "  The  Lady  Who 
Dreams  is  beautiful,  but  she  is  strangely  different  from 
you." 

But  hardly  had  she  gone,  when  the  Sun  Priest,  followed 
by  a  number  of  young  men,  entered,  apparently  for  the 
purpose  of  removing  the  dishes  and  the  uneaten  food. 
Even  as  some  of  them  were  in  the  act  of  bending  over  to 
pick  up  the  dishes,  at  a  signal  from  the  priest  they  sprang 
upon  the  three  guests,  bound  their  hands  and  arms 
securely  behind  them,  and  led  them  out  to  the  Sun  God's 
altar  before  the  assembled  tribe.  Here,  where  they  ob 
served  a  crucible  on  a  tripod  over  a  fierce  fire,  they  were 
tied  to  fresh-sunken  posts,  while  many  eager  hands  heaped 
fuel  about  them  to  their  knees. 

"  Now  buck  up  —  be  as  haughty  as  a  real  Spaniard !  " 
Francis  at  the  same  time  instructed  and  insulted  Torres. 
"  You're  Da  Vasco  himself.  Hundreds  of  years  before, 
you  were  here  on  earth  in  this  very  valley  with  the  an 
cestors  of  these  mongrels." 

"  You  must  die,"  the  Sun  Priest  was  now  addressing 
them,  while  the  Lost  Souls  nodded  unanimously.  "  For 
four  hundred  years,  as  we  count  our  sojourn  in  this 


220  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

valley,  have  we  slain  all  strangers.  You  were  not  slain, 
and  behold  the  instant  anger  of  the  Sun  God :  our  altar 
fire  went  out."  The  Lost  Souls  moaned  and  howled  and 
pounded  their  chests.  "  Therefore,  to  appease  the  Sun 
God,  you  shall  now  die." 

"  Beware!  "  Torres  proclaimed,  prompted  in  whispers, 
sometimes  by  Francis,  sometimes  by  Leoncia.  "  I  am 
Da  Vasco.  I  have  just  come  from  the  sun."  He  nodded 
with  his  head,  because  of  his  tied  hands,  at  the  stone 
bust.  "  I  am  that  Da  Vasco.  I  led  your  ancestors  here 
four  hundred  years  ago,  and  I  left  you  here,  commanding 
you  to  remain  until  my  return." 
The  Sun  Priest  hesitated. 

f<  Well,  priest,  speak  up  and  answer  the  divine  Da 
Vasco,"  Francis  spoke  harshly. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  he  is  divine?  "  the  priest  coun 
tered  quickly.  "Do  I  not  look  much  like  him  myself? 
Am  I  therefore  divine?  Am  I  Da  Vasco?  Is  he  Da 
Vasco  ?  Or  may  not  Da  Vasco  be  yet  in  the  sun  ?  —  for 
truly  I  know  that  I  am  man  born  of  woman  three-score 
and  eighteen  years  ago  and  that  I  am  not  Da  Vasco." 

'  You  have  not  spoken  to  Da  Vasco !  "  Francis  threat 
ened,  as  he  bowed  in  vast  humility  to  Torres  and  hissed 
at  him  in  English :  "  Be  haughty,  damn  you,  be  haughty !  " 
The  priest  wavered  for  the  moment,  and  then  addressed 
Torres. 

"  I  am  the  faithful  priest  of  the  sun.  Not  lightly  can 
I  relinquish  my  trust.  If  you  are  the  divine  Da  Vasco, 
then  answer  me  one  question." 

Torres  nodded  with  magnificent  haughtiness. 
"Do  you  love  gold?" 

"  Love  gol)d!  "  Torres  jeered.  "  I  am  a  great  captain 
in  the  sun,  and  the  sun  is  made  of  gold.  Gold?  It  is 
like  to  me  this  dirt  beneath  my  feet  and  the  rock  of 
which  your  mighty  mountains  are  composed." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  221 

"  Bravo,"  Leoncia  whispered  approval. 

"  Then,  O  divine  Da  Vasco,"  the  Sun  Priest  said  hum 
bly,  although  he  could  not  quite  muffle  the  ring  of  triumph 
in  his  voice,  "  are  you  fit  to  pass  the  ancient  and  usual 
test.  When  you  have  drunk  the  drink  of  gold,  and  can' 
still  say  that  you  are  Da  Vasco,  then  will  I,  and  all  of 
us,  bow  down  and  worship  you.  We  have  had  occa 
sional  intruders  in  this  valley.  Always  did  they  come 
athirst  for  gold.  But  when  we  had  satisfied  their  thirst, 
inevitably  they  thirsted  no  more,  for  they  were  dead." 

As  he  spoke,  while  the  Lost  Souls  looked  on  eagerly, 
and  while  the  three  strangers  looked  on  with  no  less 
keenness  of  apprehension,  the  priest  thrust  his  hand  into 
the  open  mouth  of  a  large  leather  bag  and  began  dropping 
handfuls  of  gold  nuggets  into  the  heated  crucible  of  the 
tripod.  So  near  were  they,  that  they  could  see  the  gold 
melt  into  fluid  and  rise  up  in  the  crucible  like  the  drink  it 
was  intended  to  be. 

The  little  maid,  daring  on  her  extraordinary  position 
in  the  Lost  Souls  Tribe,  came  up  to  the  Sun  Priest  and 
spoke  that  all  might  hear. 

"  That  is  Da  Vasco,  the  Capitan  Da  Vasco,  the  divine 
Capitan  Da  Vasco,  who  led  our  ancestors  here  the  long, 
long  time  ago." 

The  priest  tried  to  silence  her  with  a  frown.  But  the 
maid  repeated  her  statement,  pointing  eloquently  from 
the  bust  to  Torres  and  back  again ;  and  the  priest  felt  his 
grip  on  the  situation  slipping,  while  inwardly  he  cursed 
the  sinful  love  of  the  mother  of  the  little  girl  which  had 
made  her  his  daughter. 

"  Hush !  "  he  commanded  sternly.  "  These  are  things 
of  which  you  know  nothing.  If  he  be  the  Capitan  Da 
Vasco,  being  divine  he  will  drink  the  gold  and  l^e  un 
harmed." 

Into  a  rude  pottery  pitcher,  which  had  been  heated  in 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  pot  of  fire  at  the  base  of  the  altar,  he  poured  the 
molten  gold.  At  a  signal,  several  of  the  young  men  laid 
aside  their  spears,  and,  with  the  evident  intention  of 
prying  her  teeth  apart,  advanced  on  Leoncia. 

"  Hold,  priest!  "  Francis  shouted  stentoriously.  "  She 
is  not  divine  as  Da  Vasco  is  divine.  Try  the  golden 
drink  on  Da  Vasco." 

Whereat  Torres  bestowed  upon  Francis  a  look  of 
malignant  anger. 

"  Stand  on  your  haughty  pride,"  .Francis  instructed 
him.  "  Decline  the  drink.  Show  them  the  inside  of 
your  helmet." 

"  I  will  not  drink !  "  Torres  cried,  half  in  a  panic  as 
the  priest  turned  to  him. 

"  You  shall  drink.  If  you  are  Da  Vasco,  the  divine 
capitan  from  the  sun,  we  will  then  know  it  and  we  will 
fall  down -and  worship  you." 

Torres  looked  appeal  at  Francis,  which  the  priest's  nar 
row  eyes  did  not  fail  to  catch. 

"  Looks  as  though  you'll  have  to  drink  it,"  Francis 
said  dryly.  "  Anyway,  do  it  for  the  lady's  sake  and  die 
like  a  hero." 

With  a  sudden  violent  strain  at  the  cords  that  bound 
him,  Torres  jerked  one  hand  free,  pulled  off  his  helmet, 
and  held  it  so  that  the  priest  could  gaze  inside. 

"  Behold  what  is  graven  therein,"  Torres  commanded. 

Such  was  the  priest's  startlement  at  sight  of  the  in 
scription,  DA  VASCO,  that  the  pitcher  fell  from  his 
hand.  The  molten  gold,  spilling  forth,  set  the  dry  debris 
on  the  ground  afire,  while  one  of  the  spearmen,  spattered 
on  the  foot,  danced  away  with  wild  yells  of  pain.  But 
the  Sun  Priest  quickly  recovered  himself.  Seizing  the 
fire  pot,  he  was  about  to  set  fire  to  the  faggots  heaped 
about  his  three  victims,  when  the  little  maid  intervened. 

"  The  Sun  God  would  not  let  the  great  capitan  drink 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  223 

the  drink,"  she  said.  "  The  Sun  God  spilled  it  from  your 
hand." 

And  when  all  the  Lost  Souls  began  to  murmur  that 
there  was  more  in  the  matter  than  appeared  to  their 
priest,  the  latter  was  compelled  to  hold  his  hand.  Never 
theless  was  he  resolved  on  'the  destruction  of  the  three 
intruders.  So,  craftily,  he  addressed  his  people. 

"  We  shall  wait  for  a  sign.  -  Bring  oil.  We  will 
give  the  Sun  God  time  for  a  sign.  -  Bring  a  candle." 

Pouring  the  jar  of  oil  over  the  faggots  to  make  them 
more  inflammable,  he  set  the  lighted  stub  of  a  candle  in 
the  midst  of  the  saturated  fuel,  and  said: 

"vThe  life  of  the  candle  will  be  the  duration  of  the 
time  for  the  sign.  Is  it  well,  O  People?" 

And  all  the  Lost  Souls  murmured,  "  It  is  well." 

Torres  looked  appeal  to  Francis,  who  replied : 

"  The  old  brute  certainly  pinched  on  the  length  of  the 
candle.  It  won't  last  five  minutes  at  best,  and,  maybe, 
inside  three  minutes  we'll  be  going  up  in  smoke." 

"What  can  we  do?"  Torres  demanded  frantically, 
while  Leoncia  looked  bravely,  with  a  sad  brave  smile  of 
love,  into  Francis'  eyes. 

"  Pray  for  rain,"  Francis  answered.  "  And  the  sky 
is  as  clear  as  a  bell.  After  that,  die  game.  Don't  squeal 
too  loud." 

And  his  eyes  returned  to  Leoncia's  and  expressed  what 
he  had  never  dared  express  to  her  before  —  his  full  heart 
of  love.  Apart,  by  virtue  of  the  posts  to  which  they 
were  tied  and  which  separated  them,  they  had  never  been 
so  close  together,  and  the  bond  that  drew  them  and 
united  them  was  their  eyes. 

First  of  all,  the  little  maid,  gazing  into  the  sky  for 
the  sign,  saw  it.  Torres,  who  had  eyes  only  for  the 
candle  stub,  nearly  burned  to  its  base,  heard  the  maid's 
cry  and  looked  up.  And  at  the  same  time  he  heard,  as  all 


224  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

of  them  heard,  the  droning  flight  as  of  some  monstrous 
insect  in  the  sky. 

".An  aeroplane,"  Francis  muttered.  "Torres,  claim 
it  for  the  sign." 

But  no  need  to  claim  was  necessary.  Above  them  not 
more  than  a  hundred  feet,  it  swooped  and  circled,  the 
first  aeroplane  the  Lost  Souls  had  ever  seen,  while  from 
itb  like  a  benediction  from  heaven,  descended  the  familiar : 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew." 

Completing  the  circle  and  rising  to  an  elevation  of 
nearly  a  thousand  feet,  they  saw  an  object  detach  itself 
directly  overhead,  fall  like  a  plummet  for  three  hundred 
feet,  then  expand  into  a  spread  parachute,  with  beneath 
it,  like  a  spider  suspended  on  a  web,  the  form  of  a  man, 
which  last,  as  it  neared  the  ground,  again  began  to  sing : 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew." 

And  then  event  crowded  on  event  with  supremest  rapid 
ity.  The  stub  of  the  candle  fell  apart,  the  flaming  wick 
fell  into  the  tiny  lake  of  molten  fat,  the  lake  flamed,  and 
the  oil-saturated  faggots  about  it  flamed.  And  Henry, 
landing  in  the  thick  of  the  Lost  Souls,  blanketing  a 
goodly  portion  of  them  under  his  parachute,  in  a  couple 
of  leaps  was  beside  his  friends  and  kicking  the  blazing 
fagots  right  and  left.  Only  for  a  second  did  he  desist. 
This  was  when  the  Sun  Priest  interfered.  A  right  hook 
to  the  jaw  put  that  aged  confidant  of  God  down  on  his 
back,  and,  while  he  slowly  recuperated  and  crawled  to  his 
feet,  Henry  slashed  clear  the  lashings  that  bound  Leoncia, 
Francis,  and  Torres.  His  arms  were  out  to  embrace 
Leoncia,  when  she  thrust  him  away  with : 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  225 

"  Quick !     There  is  no  time  for  explanation.     Down 
on  your  knees  to  Torres  and  pretend  you  are  his  slave  — 
and  don't  talk  Spanish;  talk  English." 

Henry  could  not  comprehend,  and,  while  Leoncia  re 
assured  him  with  her  eyes,  he  saw  Francis  prostrate  him 
self  at  the  feet  of  their  common  enemy. 

"  Gee !  "  Henry  muttered,  as  he  joined  Francis.  "  Here 
goes.  But  it's  worse  than  rat  poison." 

Leoncia  folldwed  him,  and  all  the  Lost  Souls  went  down 
prone  before  the  Capitan  Da  Vasco  who  received  in  their 
midst  celestial  messengers  direct  from  the  sun.  All  went 
down,  except  the  priest,  who,  mightily  shaken,  was  medi 
tating  doing  it,  when  the  mocking  devil  of  melodrama  in 
Torres'  soul  prompted  him  to  oyerdo  his  part. 

As  haughtily  as  Francis  had  coached  him,  he  lifted 
his  right  foot  and  placed  it  down  on  Henry's  neck,  inci 
dentally  covering  and  pinching  most  of  his  ear. 

And  Henry  literally  went  up  in  the  air. 

"  You  can't  step  on  my  ear,  Torres !  "  he  shouted,  at 
the  same  time  dropping  him,  as  he  had  dropped  the  priest, 
with  his  right  hook. 

"  And  now  the  beans  are  spilled,"  Francis  commented 
in  dry  and  spiritless  disgust.  l  The  Sun  God  stuff  is 
finished  right  here  and  now." 

The  Sun  Priest,  exultantly  signaling  his  spearmen, 
grasped  the  situation.  But  Henry  dropped  the  muzzle 
of  his  automatic  pistol  to  the  old  priest's  midrif ;  and  the 
priest,  remembering  the  legends  of  deadly  missiles  pro 
pelled  by  the  mysterious  substance  called  "  gunpowder," 
smiled  appeasingly  and  waved  back  his  spearmen. 

"  This  is  beyond  my  powers  of  wisdom  and  judgment," 
he  addressed  his  tribespeople,  while  ever  his  wavering 
glance  returned  to  the  muzzle  of  Henry's  pistol.  "  I  shall 
appeal  to  the  last  resort.  Let  the  messenger  be  sent  to 


226  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

wake  the  Lady  Who  Dreams.  Tell  her  that  strangers 
from  the  sky,  and,  mayhap,  the  sun,  are  here  in  our 
valley.  And  that  only  the  wisdom  of  her  far  dreams 
will  make  clear  to  us  what  we  do  not  understand,  and 
what  even  I  do  not  understand." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

CONVOYED  by  the  spearmen,  the  party  of  Leoncia,  the 
two  Morgans,  and  Torres,  was  led  through  the  pleasant 
fields,  all  under  a  high  state  of  primitive  cultivation,  and 
on  across  running  streams  and  through  woodland 
stretches  and  knee-deep  pastures  where  grazed  cows  of 
so  miniature  a  breed  that,  full-grown,  they  were  no  larger 
than  young  calves. 

"  They're  milch  cows  without  mistake,"  Henry  com 
mented.  "  And  they're  perfect  beauties.  But  did  you 
ever  see  such  dwarfs!  A  strong  man  could  lift  up  the 
biggest  specimen  and  walk  off  with  it." 

"  Don't  fool  yourself,"  Francis  spoke  up,  "  Take  that 
one  over  there,  the  black  one.  I'll  wager  it's  not  an 
ounce  under  three  hundredweight." 

"  How  much  will  you  wager?  "  Henry  challenged. 

"  Name  the  bet,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  a  hundred  even,"  Henry  stated,  "  that  I  can 
lift  it  up  and  walk  away  with  it." 

"  Done." 

But  the  bet  was  never  to  be  decided,  for  the  instant 
Henry  left  the  path  he  was  poked  back  by  the  spearmen, 
who  scowled  and  made  signs  that  they  were  to  proceed 
straight  ahead. 

Where  the  way  came  to  lead  past  the  foot  of.  a  very 
rugged  cliff,  they  saw  above  them  many  goats. 

"  Domesticated,"  said  Francis.  "  Look  at  the  herd 
boys." 

"  I  was  sure  it  was  goat-meat  in  that  stew,"  Henry 
nodded.  "  I  always  did  like  goats.  If  the  Lady  Who 
Dreams,  whoever  she  may  be,  vetoes  the  priest  and  lets  us 
live,  and  if  we  have  to  stay  with  the  Lost  Souls  for  the 

227 


228  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

rest  of  our  days,  I'm  going  to  petition  to  be  made  master 
goatherd  of  the  realm,  and  I'll  build  you  a  nice  little  cot 
tage,  Leoncia,  and  you  can  become  the  Exalted  Cheese- 
Maker  to  the  Queen." 

But  he  did  not  whimsically  wander  farther,  for,  at  that 
moment,  they  emerged  upon  a  lake  so  beautiful  as  to 
bring  a  long  whistle  from  Francis,  a  hand-clap  from  Leon 
cia,  and  a  muttered  ejaculation  of  appreciation  from 
Torres.  Fully  a  mile  in  length  it  stretched,  with  more 
than  half  the  same  in  width,  and  was  a  perfect  oval. 
With  one  exception,  no  habitation  broke  the  fringe  of 
trees,  bamboo  thickets,  and  rushes  that  circled  its  shore, 
even  along  the  foot  of  the  cliff  where  the  bamboo  was 
exceptionally  luxuriant.  On  the  placid  surface  \vas  so 
vividly  mirrored  the  surrounding  mountains  that  the  eye 
could  scarcely  discern  where  reality  ended  and  reflection 
began. 

In  the  midst  of  her  rapture  over  the  perfect  reflection, 
Leoncia  broke  off  to  exclaim  her  disappointment  in  that 
the  water  was  not  crystal  clear : 

"  What  a  pity  it  is  so  muddy!  " 

"  That's  because  of  the  wash  of  the  rich  soil  of  the 
valley  floor,"  Henry  elucidated.  "  It's  hundreds  of  feet 
deep,  that  soil." 

"  The  whole  valley  must  have  been  a  lake  at  some 
time,"  Francis  concurred.  "  Run  your  eye  along  the 
cliff  and  see  the  old  water-lines.  I  wonder  what  made  it 
shrink?" 

"  Earthquake,  most  likely  —  opened  up  some  subter 
ranean  exit  and  drained  it  off  to  its  present  level  —  and 
keeps  on  draining  it,  too.  Its  rich  chocolate  color  shows 
the  amount  of  water  that  flows  in  all  the  time,  and  that 
it  doesn't  have  much  chance  to  settle.  It's  the  catch-basin 
for  the  entire  circling  watershed  of  the  valley." 

"  Well,  there's  one  house  at  least,"  Leoncia  was  saying 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  22Q 

five  minutes  later,  as  they  rounded  an  angle  of  the  cliff 
and  saw,  tucked  against  the  cliff  and  extending  out  over 
the  water,  a  low-roofed  bungalow-like  dwelling. 

The  piles  were  massive  tree-trunks,  but  the  walls  of 
the  house  were  of  bamboo  and  the  roof  was  thatched  with 
grass-straw.  So  isolated  was  it,  that  the  only  access, 
except  by  boat,  was  a  twenty-foot  bridge  so  narrow  that 
two  could  not  walk  on  it  abreast.  At  either  end  of  the 
bridge,  evidently  armed  guards  or  sentries,  stood  two 
young  men  of  the  tribe.  They  moved  aside  at  a  gesture 
of  command  from  the  Sun  Priest,  and  let  the  party  pass, 
although  the  two  Morgans  did  not  fail  to  notice  that  the 
spearmen  who  had  accompanied  them  from  the  Long 
House  remained  beyond  the  bridge. 

Across  the  bridge  and  entered  into  the  bungalow-like 
dwelling  on  stilts,  they  found  themselves  in  a  large  room 
better  furnished,  crude  as  the  furnishings  were,  than  they 
would  have  expected  in  the  Valley  of  Lost  Souls.  The 
grass  mats  on  the  floor  were  of  fine  and  careful  weave, 
and  the  shades  of  split  bamboo  that  covered  the  window- 
openings  were  of  patient  workmanship.  At  the  far  end, 
against  the  wall,  was  a  huge  golden  emblem  of  the  rising 
sun  similar  to  the  one  before  the  altar  by  the  Long  House. 
But,  by  far  most  striking,  were  two  living  creatures  who 
strangely  inhabited  the  place  and  who  scarcely  moved. 
Beneath  the  rising  sun,  raised  above  the  floor  on  a  sort  of 
dais,  was  a  many-pillowed  divan  that  was  half-throne. 
And  on  the  divan,  among  the  pillows,  clad  in  a  softly 
shimmering  robe  of  some  material  no  one  of  them  had 
seen  before,  reclined  a  sleeping  woman.  Only  her  breast 
softly  rose  and  softly  fell  to  her  breathing.  No  Lost 
Soul  was  she,  of  the  inbred  and  degenerate  mixture  of 
Carib  and  Spaniard.  On  her  head  was  a  tiara  of  beaten 
gold  and  sparkling  gems  so  large  that  almost  it  seemed 
a  crown. 


230  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Before  her,  on  the  floor,  were  two  tripods  of  gold  — 
the  one  containing  smouldering  fire,  the  other,  vastly 
larger,  a  golden  bowl  fully  a  fathom  in  diameter.  Be 
tween  the  tripods,  resting  with  outstretched  paws  like 
the  Sphinx,  with  unblinking  eyes  and  without  a  quiver, 
a  great  dog,  snow-white  of  coat  and  resembling  a  Russian 
wolf-hound,  steadfastly  regarded  the  intruders. 

"  She  looks  like  a  lady,  and  seems  like  a  queen,  and 
certainly  dreams  to  the  queen's  taste,"  Henry  whispered, 
and  earned  a  scowl  from  the  Sim  Priest. 

Leoncia  was  breathless,  but  Torres  shuddered  and 
crossed  himself,  and  said : 

"  This  I  have  never  heard  of  the  Valley  of  Lost  Souls. 
This  woman  who  sleeps  is  a  Spanish  lady.  She  is  of  the 
pure  Spanish  blood. .  She  is  Castilian.  I  am  as  certain, 
as  that  I  stand  here,  that  her  eyes  are  blue.  And  yet 
that  pallor!  "  Again  he  shuddered.  "  It  is  an  unearthly 
sleep.  It  is  as  if  she  tampered  with  drugs,  and  had  long 
tampered  with  drugs  — " 

"The  very  thing!"  Francis  broke  in  with  excited 
whispers.  "  The  Lady  Who  Dreams  drug  dreams. 
They  must  keep  her  here  doped  up  as  a  sort  of  super- 
priestess  or  super-oracle.  -  That's  all  right,  old  priest," 
he  broke  off  to  say  in  Spanish.  "If  we  wake  her  up, 
what  of  it?  We  have  been  brought  here  to  meet  her, 
and,  I  hope,  awake." 

The  Lady  stirred,  as  if  the  whispering  had  penetrated 
her  profound  of  sleep,  and,  for  the  first  time,  the  dog 
moved,  turning  his  head  toward  her  so  that  her  down 
drooping  hand  rested  on  his  neck  caressingly.  The  priest 
was  imperative,  now,  in  his  scowls  and  gestured  com 
mands  for  silence.  And  in  absolute  silence  they  stood 
and  watched  the  awakening  of  the  oracle. 

Slowly  she  drew  herself  half  upright,  paused,  and  re- 
caressed  the  happy  wolf  hound,  whose  cruel  fangs  were 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  23! 

exposed  in  a  formidable,  long-jawed  laugh  of  joy.  Awe 
some  the  situation  was  to  them,  yet  more  awesome  it 
became  to  them  when  she  turned  her  eyes  full  upon  them 
for  the  first  time.  Never  had  they  seen  such  eyes,  in 
which  smouldered  the  world  and  all  the  worlds.  Half 
way  did  Leoncia  cross  herself,  while  Torres,  swept  away 
by  his  own  awe,  completed  his  own  crossing  of  himself 
and  with  moving  lips  of  silence  enunciated  his  favorite 
prayer  to  the  Virgin.  Even  Francis  and  Henry  looked, 
and  could  not  take  their  gaze  away  from  the  twin  wells  of 
blue  that  seemed  almost  dark  in  the  shade  of  the  long 
black  eyelashes. 

"  A  blue-eyed  brunette,"  Francis  managed  to  whisper. 

But  such  eyes!  Round  they  wrere,  rather  than  long. 
And  yet  they  were  not  round.  Square  they  might  have 
been,  had  they  not  been  more  round  than  square.  Such 
shape  had  they  that  they  were  as  if  blocked  off  in  the 
artist's  swift  and  sketchy  way  of  establishing  circles  out 
of  the  sums  of  angles.  The  long,  dark  lashes  veiled  them 
and  perpetuated  the  illusion  of  their  darkness.  Yet  was 
there  no  surprise  nor  startlement  in  them  at  first  sight  of 
her  visitors.  Dreamily  incurious  were  they,  yet  were  they 
languidly  certain  of  comprehension  of  what  they  beheld. 
Still  further,  to  awe  those  who  so  beheld,  her  eyes  be 
trayed  a  complicated  totality  of  paradoxical  alivenesses. 
Pain  trembled  its  quivering  anguish  perpetually  impend 
ing.  Sensitiveness  moistily  hinted  of  itself  like  a  spring 
rain-shower  on  the  distant  sea-horizon  or  a  dew-fall  of  a 
mountain  morning.  Pain  —  ever  pain  —  resided  in  the 
midst  of  languorous  slumberousness.  The  fire  of  im 
measurable  courage  threatened  to  glint  into  the  electric 
spark  of  action  and  fortitude.  Deep  slumber,  like  a 
palpitant,  tapestried  background,  seemed  ever  ready  to 
obliterate  all  in  sleep.  And  over  all,  through  all,  per 
meating  all,  brooded  ageless  wisdom.  This  was  accent- 


232  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

uated  by  cheeks  slightly  hollowed,  hinting  of  asceticism. 
Upon  them  was  a  flush,  either  hectic  or  of  the  paint-box. 

When  she  stood  up,  she  showed  herself  to  be  slender 
and  fragile  as  a  fairy.  Tiny  were  her  bones,  not  too- 
generously  flesh-covered;  yet  the  lines  of  her  were  not 
thin.  Had  either  Henry  or  Francis  registered  his  im 
pression  aloud,  he  would  have  proclaimed  her  the  roundest 
thin  woman  he  had  ever  seen. 

The  Sun  Priest  prostrated  his  aged  frame  till  he  lay 
stretched  flat  out  on  the  floor,  his  old  forehead  burrowing 
into  the  grass  mat.  The  rest  remained  upright,  although 
Torres  evidenced  by  a  crumpling  at  the  knees  that  he 
would  have  followed  the  priest's  action  had  his  com 
panions  shown  signs  of  accompanying  him.  As  it  was, 
his  knees'  did  partly  crumple,  but  straightened  again  and 
stiffened  under  the  controlled  example  of  Leoncia  and  the 
Morgans. 

At  first  the  lady  had  no  eyes  for  aught  but  Leoncia; 
and,  after  a  careful  looking  over  of  her,  with  a  curt 
upward  lift  of  head  she  commanded  her  to  approach. 
Too  imperative  by  far  was  it,  in  Leoncia's  thought,  to 
proceed  from  so  ethereally  beautiful  a  creature,  and  she 
sensed  with  immediacy  an  antagonism  that  must  exist 
between  them.  So  she  did  not  move,  until  the  Sun 
Priest  muttered  harshly  that  she  must  obey.  She  ap 
proached,  regardless  of  the  huge,  long-haired  hound, 
threading  between  the  tripods  and  past  the  beast,  nor 
would  stop  until  commanded  by  a  second  nod  as  curt  as 
the  first.  For  a  long  minute  the  two  women  gazed 
steadily  into  each  other's  eyes,  at  the  end  of  which,  with 
a  flicker  of  triumph,  Leoncia  observed  the  other's  eyes 
droop.  But  the  flicker  was  temporary,  for  Leoncia  saw 
that  the  Lady  was  studying  her  dress  with  haughty  curi 
osity.  She  even  reached  out  her  slender,  pallid  hand  and 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  233 

felt  the  texture  of  the  cloth  and  caressed  it  as  only  a 
woman  can. 

"  Priest!  "  she  summoned  sharply.  "  This  is  the  third 
day  of  the  Sun  in  the  House  of  Manco.  Long  ago  I  told 
you  something  concerning  this  clay.  Speak." 

Writhing  in  excess  of  servility,  the  Sun  Priest  quav 
ered: 

"  That  on  this  day  strange  events  were  to  occur.  They 
have  occurred,  O  Queen." 

Already  had  the  Queen  forgotten.  Still  caressing  the 
cloth  of  Leoncia's  dress,  her  eyes  were  bent  upon  it  in 
curious  examination. 

"  You  are  very  fortunate,"  the  Queen  said,  at  the  same 
time  motioning  her  back  to  rejoin  the  others.  '  You  are 
well  loved  of  men.  All  is  not  clear,  yet  does  it  seem  that 
you  are  too  well  loved  of  men." 

Her  voice,  mellow  and  low,  tranquil  as  silver,  modu 
lated  in  exquisite  rhythms  of  sound,  was  almost  as  a  dis 
tant  temple  bell  calling  believers  to  worship  or  sad  souls 
to  quiet  judgment.  But  to  Leoncia  it  was  not  given  to 
appreciate  the  wonderful  voice.  Instead,  only  was  she 
aware  of  anger  flaming  up  to  her  cheeks  and  burning  in 
her  pulse. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before,  and  often,"  the  Queen  went 
on. 

"Never!"  Leoncia  cried  out. 

"  Hush !  "  the  Sun  Priest  hissed  at  her. 

"  There,"  the  Queen  said,  pointing  at  the  great  golden 
bowl.  "  Before,  and  often,  have  I  seen  you  there. 

"You  — also,   there,"   she  addressed   Henry. 

"  And  you,"  she  confirmed  to  Francis,  although  her 
great  blue  eyes  opened  wider  and  she  gazed  at  him  long 
—  too  long  to  suit  Leoncia,  who  knew  the  stab  of  jealousy 
that  only  a  woman  can  thrust  into  a  woman's  heart. 


234  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

The  Queen's  eyes  glinted  when  they  had  moved  on  to 
rest  on  Torres. 

"  And  who  are  you,  stranger,  so  strangely  appareled, 
the  helmet  of  a  knight  upon  your  head,  upon  your  feet 
the  sandals  of  a  slave?  " 

"  I  am  Da  Vasco,"  he  answered  stoutly. 
'  The  name  has  an  ancient  ring/'  she  smiled. 

"  I  am  the  ancient  Da  Vasco,"  he  pursued,  advancing 
unsummoned.  She  smiled  at  his  temerity  but  did  not 
stay  him.  '  This  is  the  helmet  I  wore  four  hundred  years 
ago  when  I  led  the  ancestors  of  the  Lost  Souls  into  this 
valley." 

The  Queen  smiled  quiet  unbelief,  as  she  quietly  asked : 

"  Then  you  were  born  four  hundred  years  ago  ?  " 

'  Yes,  and  never.  I  was  never  born.  I  am  Da  Vasco. 
I  have  always  been.  My  home  is  in  the  sun." 

Her  delicately  stenciled  brows  drew  quizzically  to  in 
terrogation,  though  she  said  nothing.  From  a  gold- 
wrought  box  beside  her  on  the  divan  she  pinched  what 
seemed  a  powder  between  a  fragile  and  almost  trans 
parent  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  her  thin  beautiful  lips 
curved  to  gentle  mockery  as  she  casually  tossed  the  pow 
der  into  the  great  tripod.  A  sheen  of  smoke  arose  and 
in  a  moment  was  lost  to  sight. 

"  Look !  "  she  commanded. 

And  Torres,  approaching  the  great  bowl,  gazed  into  it. 
What  he  saw,  the  rest  of  his  party  never  learned.  But  the 
Queen,  herself,  leaned  forward  and  gazing  down  from 
above,  saw  with  him,  her  face  a  beautiful  advertisement 
of  gentle  and  pitying  mockery.  And  what  Torres  him 
self  saw  was  a  bedroom  and  a  birth  in  the  second  story 
of  the  Bocas  del  Toro  house  he  had  i'nherited.  Pitiful 
it  was.  with  its  last  secrecy  exposed,  as  was  the  gently 
smiling  pity  in  the  Queen's  face.  And,  in  that  flashing 
glimpse  of  magic  vision,  Torres  saw  confirmed  about 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  235 

himself    what    he    had    always    guessed    and    suspected. 

"Would  you  see  more?"  the  Queen  softly  mocked. 
"  I  have  shown  you  the  beginning  of  you.  Look  now, 
and  behold  your  ending." 

But  Torres,  too  deeply  impressed  by  what  he  had 
already  seen,  shuddered  away  in  recoil. 

"  Forgive  me,  Beautiful  Woman,"  he  pleaded,  "  And 
let  me  pass.  Forget,  as  I  shall  hope  ever  to  forget." 

"  It  is  gone,"  she  said,  with  a  careless  wave  of  her 
hand  over  the  bowl.  "  But  I  cannot  forget.  The  record 
will  persist  always  in  my  mind.  But  you,  O  Man,  so 
young  of  life,  so  ancient  of  helmet,  have  I  beheld  before 
this  day,  there  in  my  Mirror  of  the  World.  You  have 
vexed  me  much  of  late  with  your  portending.  Yet  not 
with  the  helmet."  She  smiled  with  quiet  wisdom.  "  Al 
ways,  it  seems  to  me,  I  saw  a  chamber  of  the  dead,  of 
the  long  dead,  upright  on  their  unmoving  legs  and  guard 
ing  through  eternity  mysteries  alien  to  their  faith  and 
race.  And  in  that  dolorous  company  did  it  seem  that  I 
saw  one  who  wore  your  ancient  helmet.  .  .  .  Shall  I 
speak  further?  " 

"  No,  no,"  Torres  implored. 

She  bowed  and  nodded  him  back.  Next,  her  scrutiny 
centered  on  Francis,  whom  she  nodded  forward.  She 
stood  up  upon  the  dais  as  if  to  greet  him,  and,  as  if 
troubled  by  the  fact  that  she  must  gaze  down  on  him, 
stepped  from  the  dais  to  the  floor  so  that  she  might  gaze 
up  into  his  face  as  she  extended  her  hand.  Hesitatingly 
he  took  her  hand  in  his,  then  knew  not  what  next  to  do. 
Almost  did  it  appear  that  she  read  his  thought,  for  she 
said : 

"  Do  it.  I  have  never  had  it  done  to  me  before.  I 
have  never  seen  it  done,  save  in  my  dreams  and  in  the 
visions  shown  me  in  my  Mirror  of  the  World." 

And  Francis  bent  and  kissed  her  hand.     And,  because 


236  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

she  did  not  signify  to  withdraw  it,  he  continued  to  hold 
it,  while,  against  his  palm,  he  felt  the  faint  bat  steady 
pulse  of  her  pink  finger-tips.  And  so  they  stood  in  pose, 
neither  speaking,  Francis  embarrassed,  the  Queen  sighing 
faintly.,  while  the  sex  anger  of  woman  tore  at  Leoncia's 
heart,  until  Henry  blurted  out  in  gleeful  English : 

"  Do  it  again,  Francis!     She  likes  it!" 

The  Sun  Priest  hissed  silencing  command  at  him. 
But  the  Queen,  half  withdrawing  her  hand  with  a  startle 
like  a  maiden's,  returned  it  as  deeply  as  before  into 
Francis'  clasp,  and  addressed  herself  to  Henry. 

"  I,  too,  know  the  language  you  speak,"  she  admon 
ished.  "  Yet  am  I  unashamed,  I,  who  have  never  known 
a  man,  do  admit  that  I  like  it.  It  is  the  first  kiss  that  I 
have  ever  had.  Francis  —  for  such  your  friend  calls 
you  —  obey  your  friend.  I  like  it.  I  do  like  it.  Once 
again  kiss  my  hand." 

Francis  obeyed,  waited  while  her  hand  still  lingered 
in  his,  and  while  she,  oblivious  to  all  else,  as  if  toying 
with  some  beautiful  thought,  gazed  lingeringly  up  into 
his  eyes.  By  a  visible  effort  she  pulled  herself  together, 
released  his  hand  abruptly,  gestured  him  back  to  the 
others,  and  addressed  the  Sun  Priest. 

"  Well,  priest,"  she  said,  with  a  return  of  the  sharpness 
in  her  voice,  "  You  have  brought  these  captives  here  for 
a  reason  which  I  already  know.  Yet  would  I  hear  you 
state  it  yourself." 

"  O  Lady  Who  Dreams,  shall  we  not  kill  these  in 
truders  as  has  ever  been  our  custom?  The  people  are 
mystified  and  in  doubt  of  my  judgment,  and  demand 
decision  from  you." 

"  And  you  would  kill?" 

"  Such  is  my  judgment.  I  seek  now  your  judgment 
that  yours  and  mine  may  be  one." 

She  glanced  over  the  faces  of  the  four  captives.     For 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  237 

Torres,  her  brooding  expression  portrayed  only  pity. 
To  Leoncia  she  extended  a  frown ;  to  Henry,  doubt.  And 
upon  Francis  she  gazed  a  full  minute,  her  face  growing 
tender,  at  least  to  Leoncia's  angry  observation. 

"Are  any  of  you  unmarried?"  the  Queen  asked  sud 
denly.  "  Nay,"  she  anticipated  them.  "  It  is  given  me 
to  know  that  you  are  all  unmarried."  She  turned  quickly 
to  Leoncia.  "  Is  it  well,"  she  demanded,  "  that  a  woman 
should  have  two  husbands  ?  " 

Both  Henry  and  Francis  could  not  refrain  from  smil 
ing  their  amusement  at  so  absurdly  irrelevant  a  question. 
But  to  Leoncia  it  was  neither  absurd  nor  irrelevant,  and 
in  her  cheeks  arose  the  flush  of  anger  again.  .This  was 
a  woman,  she  knew,  with  whom  she  had  to  deal,  and  who 
was  dealing  with  her  like  a  woman. 

"  It  is  not  well,"  Leoncia  answered,  with  clear,  ringing 
voice. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  the  Queen  pondered  aloud.  "  It 
is  very  strange.  Yet  is  it  not  fair.  Since  there  are 
equal  numbers  of  men  and  women  in  the  world,  it  cannot 
be  fair  for  one  woman  to  have  two  husbands,  for,  if  so, 
it  means  that  another  woman  shall  have  no  husband." 

Another  pinch  of  dust  she  tossed  into  the  great  bowl  of 
gold.  The  sheen  of  smoke  arose  and  vanished  as  before. 

"  The  Mirror  of  the  World  will  tell  me,  priest,  what 
disposition  shall  be  made  of  our  captives." 

Just  ere  she  leaned  over  to  gaze  into  the  bowl,  a  fresh 
thought  deflected  her.  With  an  embracing  wave  of  arm 
she  invited  them  all  up  to  the  bowl. 

"  We  may  all  look,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  promise  you 
we  will  see  the  same  visions  of  our  dreams.  Nor  shall 
I  know  what  you  will  have  seen.  Each  for  himself  will 
see  and  know. —  You,  too,  priest." 

They  found  the  bowl,  six  feet  in  diameter  that  it  was, 
half-full  of  some  unknown  metal  liquid. 


238  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  It  might  be  quicksilver,  but  it  isn't,"  Henry  whispered 
to  Francis.  "  I've  never  seen  the  like  of  any  similar  metal. 
It  strikes  me  as  hotly  molten." 

"  It  is  very  cold,"  the  Queen  corrected  him  in  English. 
'  Yet  it  is  fire.  -  You,  Francis,  feel  the  bowl  outside." 

He  obeyed,  laying  his  full  palm  unhesitatingly  to  the 
yellow  outer  surface. 

"  Colder  than  the  atmosphere  of  the  room,"  he  ad 
judged. 

"But  look!"  the  Queen  cried,  tossing  more  powder 
upon  the  contents.  "  It  is  fire  that  remains  cold." 

It  is  the  powder  that  smokes  with  the  heat  of  its  own 
containment,"  Torres  blurted  out,  at  the  same  time  feel 
ing  into  the  bottom  of  his  coat  pocket.  He  drew  forth  a 
pinch  of  crumbs  of  tobacco,  match  splinters,  and  cloth- 
fluff.  '  This  will  not  burn,"  he  challenged,  inviting  invi 
tation  by  extending  the  pinch  of  rubbish  over  the  bowl  as 
if  to  drop  it  in. 

The  Queen  nodded  consent,  and  all  saw  the  rubbish 
fall  upon  the  liquid  metal  surface.  The  particles  made 
no  indentation  on  that  surface.  Only  did  they  transform 
into  smoke  that  sheened  upward  and  was  gone.  No 
remnant  of  ash  remained. 

"  Still  is  it  cold,"  said  Torres,  imitating  Francis  and 
feeling  the  outside  of  the  bowl. 

"  Thrust  your  finger  into  the  contents,"  the  Queen 
suggested  to  Torres. 

"  No,"  he  said. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  confirmed.  "  Had  you  done  so, 
you  would  now  be  with  one  finger  less  than  the  number 
with  which  you  were  born."  She  tossed  in  more  powder. 
"  Now  shall  each  behold  what  he  alone  will  behold." 

And  it  was  so. 

To  Leoncia  was  it  given  to  see  an  ocean  separate  her 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  239 

and  Francis.  To  Henry  was  it  given  to  see  the  Queen 
and  Francis  married  by  so  strange  a  ceremony,  that 
scarcely  did  he  realize,  until  at  the  close,  that  it  was  a 
wedding  taking  place.  The  Queen,  from  a  flying  gallery 
in  a  great  house,  looked  down  into  a  magnificent  drawing 
room  that  Francis  would  have  recognized  as  builded  by 
his  father  had  her  vision  been  his.  And,  beside  her,  his 
arm  about  her,  she  saw  Francis.  Francis  saw  but  one 
thing,  vastly  perturbing,  the  face  of  Leoncia,  immobile 
as  death,  with  thrust  into  it,  squarely  between  the  eyes,  a 
slender-bladed  dagger.  Yet  he  did  not  see  any  blood 
flowing  from  the  wound  of  the  dagger.  Torres  glimpsed 
the  beginning  of  what  he  knew  must  be  his  end,  crossed 
himself,  and  alone  of  all  of  them  shrank  back,  refusing 
to  see  further.  While  the  Sun  Priest  saw  the  vision  of 
his  secret  sin,  the  face  and  form  of  the  woman  for  whom 
he  had  betrayed  the  Worship  of  the  Sun,  and  the  face  and 
form  of  the  maid  of  the  village  at  the  Long  House. 

As  all  drew  back  by  common  consent  when  the  visions 
faded,  Leoncia  turned  like  a  tigress,  with  flashing  eyes, 
upon  the  Queen,  crying: 

"  Your  mirror  lies !     Your  Mirror  of  the  World  lies !  " 

Francis  and  Henry,  still  under  the  heavy  spell  of  what 
they  had  themselves  beheld,  were  startled  and  surprised  by 
Leoncia's  outburst.  But  the  Queen,  speaking  softly,  re 
plied  : 

"  My  Mirror  of  the  World  has  never  lied.  I  know  not 
what  you  saw.  But  I  do  know,  whatever  it  was,  that  it 
is  truth." 

"  You  are  a  monster !  "  Leoncia  cried  on.  '  You  are 
a  vile  witch  that  lies !  " 

"  You  and  I  are  women,"  the  Queen  chided  with  sweet 
gentleness,  "  and  may  not  know  of  it  ourselves,  being 
women.  Men  will  decide  whether  or  not  I  am  a  witch 


240  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

that  lies  or  a  woman  with  a  woman's  heart  of  love.  In 
the  meanwhile,  being  women  and  therefore  weak,  let  us 
be  kind  to  each  other. 

—  And  now,  Priest  of  the  Sun,  to  judgment.  You 
as  priest  under  the  Sun  God,  know  more  of  the  ancient 
rule  and  procedure  than  do  I.  You  know  more  than  do 
I  about  myself  and  how  I  came  to  be  here.  You  know 
that  always,  mother  and  daughter,  and  by  mother  and 
daughter,  has  the  tribe  maintained  a  Queen  of  Mystery, 
a  Lady  of  Dreams.  The  time  has  come  when  we  must 
consider  the  future  generations.  The  strangers  have 
come,  and  they  are  unmarried.  This  must  be  the  wed 
ding  day  decreed,  if  the  generations  to  come  after  of  the 
tribe  are  to  possess  a  Queen  to  dream  for  them.  It  is 
well,  and  time  and  need  and  place  are  met.  I  have 
dreamed  to  judgment.  And  the  judgment  is  that  I  shall 
narry,  of  these  strangers,  the  stranger  alloted  to  me  before 
the  foundations  of  the  world  were  laid.  The  test  is 
this:  If  no  one  of  these  will  marry,  then  shall  they  die 
and  their  warm  blood  be  offered  up  by  you  before  the 
altar  of  the  Sun.  If  one  will  marry  me,  then  all  shall 
live,  and  Time  hereafter  will  register  our  futures." 

The  Sun  Priest,  trembling  with  anger,  strove  to  pro 
test,  but  she  commanded : 

"  Silence,  priest !  By  me  only  do  you  rule  the  people. 
At  a  word  from  me  to  the  people  —  well,  you  know.  It 
is  not  an  easy  way  to  die." 

She  turned  to  the  three  men,  saying : 

"  And  who  will  marry  me?  " 

They  looked  embarrassment  and  consternation  at  one 
another,  but  none  spoke. 

"  I  am  a  woman,"  the  Queen  went  on  teasingly.  "  And 
therefore  am  I  not  desirable  to  men?  Is  it  that  I  am 
not  young?  Is  it,  as  women  go,  that  I  am  not  beautiful? 
Is  it  that  men's  tastes  are  so  strange  that  no  man  cares  to 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  24! 

clasp  the  sweet  of  me  in  his  arms  and  press  his  lips  on 
mine  as  good  Francis  there  did  on  my  hand?" 

She  turned  her  eyes  on  Leoncia. 

"  You  be  judge.  You  are  a  woman  well  loved  of  men. 
Am  I  not  such  a  woman  as  you,  and  shall  I  not  be 
loved?" 

"  You  will  ever  be  kinder  to  men  than  to  women," 
Leoncia  answered  —  cryptically  as  regarded  the  three  men 
who  heard,  but  clearly  to  the  woman's  brain  of  the  Queen. 
"  And  as  a  woman,"  Leoncia  continued,  "  you  are  strange 
ly  beautiful  and  luring;  and  there  are  men  in  this  world, 
many  men,  who  could  be  made  mad  to  clasp  you  in  their 
arms.  But  I  warn  you,  Queen,  that  in  this  world  are 
men,  and  men,  and  men." 

Having  heard  and  debated  this,  the  Queen  turned 
abruptly  to  the  priest. 

"  You  have  heard,  priest.  This  day  a  man  shall  marry 
me.  If  no  man  marries  me,  these  three  men  shall  be 
offered  up  on  your  altar.  So  shall  be  offered  up  this 
woman,  who,  it  would  seem,  would  put  shame  upon  me 
by  having  me  less  loved  than  she." 

Still  she  addressed  the  priest,  although  her  message 
was  for  the  others. 

"  There  are  three  men  of  them,  one  of  whom,  long 
cycles  before  he  w*as  born,  was  destined  to  marry  me. 
So,  priest,  I  say,  take  the  captives  away  into  some  other 
apartment,  and  let  them  decide  among  ourselves  which 
is  the  man." 

"  Since  it  has  been  so  long  destined,"  Leoncia  flamed 
forth,  "then  why  put  it  to  the  chance  of  their  decision? 
You  know  the  man.  Why  put  it  to  the  risk  ?  Name  the 
man,  Queen,  and  name  him  now." 

"  The  man  shall  be  selected  in  the  way  I  have  indi 
cated,"  the  Queen  replied,  as,  at  the  same  time,  absently 
she  tossed  a  pinch  of  powder  into  the  great  bowl  and  ab- 


242  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

sently  glanced  therein.  "  So  now  depart,  and  let  the  in 
evitable  choice  be  made." 

They  were  already  moving  away  out  of  the  room,  when 
a  cry  from  the  Queen  stopped  them. 

u  Wait !  "  she  ordered.  "  Come,  Francis.  I  have  seen 
something  that  concerns  you.  Come,  gaze  with  me  upon 
the  Mirror  of  the  World." 

And  while  the  others  paused,  Francis  gazed  with  her 
upon  the  strange  liquid  metal  surface.  He  saw  himself 
in  the  library  of  his  New  York  house,  and  he  saw  be 
side  him  the  Lady  Who  Dreams,  his  arm  around  her. 
Next,  he  saw  her  curiosity  at  sight  of  the  stock-ticker. 
As  he  tried  to  explain  it  to  her,  he  glanced  at  the  tape 
and  read  such  disturbing  information  thereon  that  he 
sprang  to  the  nearest  telephone  and,  as  the  vision  faded, 
saw  himself  calling  up  his  broker. 

"  What  was  it  you  saw?  "  Leoncia  questioned,  as  they 
passed  out. 

And  Francis  lied.  He  did  not  mention  seeing  the  Lady 
Who  Dreams  in  his  New  York  library.  Instead,  he  re 
plied  : 

"  It  was  a  stock-ticker,  and  it  showed  a  bear  market 
on  Wall  Street  somersaulting  into  a  panic.  Now  how 
did  she  know  I  was  interested  in  Wall  Street  and  stock- 
tickers?" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"  SOMEBODY'S  got  to  marry  that  crazy  woman/'  Leori- 
cia  spoke  up,  as  they  lolled  upon  the  mats  of  the  room  to 
which  the  priest  had  taken  them.  "  Not  only  will  he 
be  a  hero  by  saving  our  lives,  but  he  will  save  his  own 
life  as  well.  Now,  Senor  Torres,  is  your  chance  to  save 
all  our  lives  and  your  own." 

"  Br-r-r !  "  Torres  shivered.  "  I  would  not  marry  her 
for  ten  million  gold.  She  is  too  wise.  She  is  terrible. 
She  —  how  shall  I  say  ?  —  she,  as  you  Americans  say, 
gets  my  goat.  I  am  a  brave  man.  But  before  her  I  am 
not  brave.  The  flesh  of  me  melts  in  a  sweat  of  fear. 
Not  for  less  than  ten  million  would  I  dare  to  overcome 
my  fear.  Now  Henry  and  Francis  are  braver  than  I. 
Let  one  of  them  marry  her." 

"But  I  am  engaged  to  marry  Leoncia,"  Henry  spoke 
up  promptly.  "  Therefore,  I  cannot  marry  the  Queen." 

All  their  eyes  centered  on  Francis,  but,  before  he  could 
reply,  Leoncia  broke  in. 

"  It  is  not  fair,"  she  said.  "  No  one  of  you  wants  to 
marry  her.  The  only  equitable  way  to  settle  it  will 
be  by  drawing  lots."  As  she  spoke,  she  pulled  three 
straws  from  the  mat  on  which  she  sat  and  broke  one  off 
very  short.  '  The  man  who  draws  the  short  straw  shall 
be  the  victim.  You,  Senor  Torres,  draw  first." 

"  Wedding  bells  for  the  short  straw,"  Henry  grinned. 

Torres  crossed  himself,  shivered,  and  drew.  So  pat 
ently  long  was  the  straw,  that  he  executed  a  series  of 
dancing  steps  as  he  sang: 

"  No  wedding  bells  for  me, 

I'm   as   happy  as   can   be  .  .  ." 

243 


244  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Francis  drew  next,  and  an  equally  long  straw  was  his 
portion.  To  Henry  there  was  no  choice.  The  remain 
ing  straw  in  Leoncia's  hand  was  the  fatal  one.  All 
tragedy  was  in  his  face  as  he  looked  instantly  at  Leoncia. 
And  she,  observing,  melted  in  pity,  while  Francis  saw 
her  pity  and  did  some  rapid  thinking.  It  was  the  way 
out.  All  the  perplexity  of  the  situation  could  be  thus 
easily  solved.  Great  as  was  his  love  for  Leoncia,  greater 
was  his  man's  loyalty  to  Henry.  Francis  did  not  hesi 
tate.  With  a  merry  slap  of  his  hand  on  Henry's  shoul 
der,  he  cried : 

"  Well,  here's  the  one  unattached  bachelor  who  isn't 
afraid  of  matrimony.  I'll  marry  her." 

Henry's  relief  was  as  if  he  had  been  reprieved  from  im 
pending  death.  His  hand  shot  out  to  Francis'  hand,  and, 
while  they  clasped,  their  eyes  gazed  squarely  into  each 
other's  as  only  decent,  honest  men's  may  gaze.  Nor  did 
either  see  the  dismay  registered  in  Leoncia's  face,  at  this 
unexpected  denouement.  The  Lady  Who  Dreams  had 
been  right.  Leoncia,  as  a  woman,  was  unfair,  loving 
two  men  and  denying  the  Lady  her  fair  share  of  men. 

But  any  discussion  that  might  have  taken  place,  was 
prevented  by  the  little  maid  of  the  village,  who  entered 
with  women  to  serve  them  the  midday  meal.  It  was 
Torres'  sharp  eyes  that  first  lighted  upon  the  string  of 
gems  about  the  maid's  neck.  Rubies  they  were,  and  mag 
nificent. 

1  The  Lady  Who  Dreams  just  gave  them  to  me,"  the 
maid  said,  pleased  with  their  pleasure  in  her  new  pos 
session. 

"  Has  she  any  more?  "  Torres  asked. 

"  Of  course,"  was  the  reply.  "  Only  just  now  did  she 
show  me  a  great  chest  of  them.  And  they  were  all 
kinds,  and  much  larger ;  but  they  were  not  strung.  They 
were  like  so  much  shelled  corn." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  245 

While  the  others  ate  and  talked,  Torres  nervously 
smoked  a  cigarette.  After  that,  he  arose  and  claimed  a 
passing  indisposition  that  prevented  him  from  eating. 

"  Listen,"  he  quoth  impressively.  "  I  speak  better 
Spanish  than  either  of  you  two  Morgans.  Also,  I  know, 
I  am  confident,  the  Spanish  woman  character  better.  To 
show  you  my  heart's  in  the  right  place,  I'll  go  in  to  her 
now  and  see  if  I  can  talk  her  out  of  this  matrimonial 
proposition." 

One  of  the  spearmen  barred  Torres'  way,  but,  after 
going  within,  returned  and  motioned  him  to  enter.  The 
Queen,  reclined  on  the  divan,  nodded  him  to  her  gra 
ciously. 

"  You  do  not  eat?"  she  queried  solicitously;  and 
added  after  he  had  reaffirmed  his  loss  of  appetite, 
"Then  will  you  drink?" 

Torres'  eyes  sparkled.  Between  the  excitement  he  had 
gone  through  for  the  past  several  days,  and  the  new  ad 
venture  he  was  resolved  upon,  he  knew  not  how,  to 
achieve,  he  felt  the  important  need  of  a  drink.  The 
Queen  clapped  her  hands,  and  issued  commands  to  the 
waiting  woman  who  responded. 

"  It  is  very  ancient,  centuries  old,  as  you  will  recog 
nize,  Da  Vasco,  who  brought  it  here  yourself  four  cen 
turies  ago,"  she  said,  as  a  man  carried  in  and  broached  a 
small  wooden  keg. 

About  the  age  of  the  keg  there  could  be  no  doubt,  and 
Torres,  knowing  that  it  had  crossed  the  Western  Ocean 
twelve  generations  before,  felt  his  throat  tickle  with  desire 
to  taste  its  contents.  The  drink  poured  by  the  waiting 
woman  was  a  big  one,  yet  was  Torres  startled  by  the  mild 
ness  of  it.  But  quickly  the  magic  of  four-centuries-old 
spirits  began  to  course  through  his  veins  and  set  the 
maggots  crawling  in  his  brain. 


246  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

The  Queen  bade  him  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  divan  at  her 
feet,  where  she  could  observe  him,  and  asked: 

'  You  came  unsummoned.  What  is  it  you  have  to 
tell  me  or  ask  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  one  selected,"  he  replied,  twisting  his  mus 
tache  and  striving  to  look  the  enticingness  of  a  male 
man  on  love  adventure  bent. 

"  Strange,"  she  said.  "  I  saw  not  your  face  in  the 
Mirror  of  the  World.  There  is  —  some  mistake,  eh  ?  " 

"  A  mistake,"  he  acknowledged  readily,  reading  cer 
tain  knowledge  in  her  eyes.  "  It  was  the  drink.  There 
is  magic  in  it  that  made  me  speak  the  message  of  my 
heart  to  you,  I  want  you  so." 

Again,  with  laughing  eyes,  she  summoned  the  waiting 
woman  and  had  his  pottery  mug  replenished. 

"  A  second  mistake,  perhaps  will  now  result,  eh?  "  she 
teased,  when  he  had  downed  the  drink. 

"  No,  O  Queen,"  he  replied.  "  Now  all  is  clarity. 
My  true  heart  I  can  master.  Francis  Morgan,  the  one 
who  kissed  your  hand,  is  the  man  selected  to  be  your 
husband." 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said  solemnly.  "  His  was  the  face 
I  saw,  and  knew  from  the  first." 

Thus  encouraged,  Torres  continued. 

"  I  am  his  friend,  his  very  good  best  friend.  You,  who 
know  all  things,  know  the  custom  of  the  marriage 
dowry.  He  has  sent  me,  his  best  friend,  to  inquire  into 
and  examine  the  dowry  of  his  bride.  You  must  know 
that  he  is  among  the  richest  of  men  in  his  own  country, 
where  men  are  very  rich." 

So  suddenly  did  she  arise  on  the  divan  that  Torres 
cringed  and  half  shrank  down,  in  his  panic  expectance 
of  a  knife-blade  between  his  shoulders.  Instead,  the 
Queen  walked  swiftly,  or,  rather,  glided,  to  the  doorway 
to  an  inner  apartment. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  247 

"  Come !  "  she  summoned  imperiously. 

Once  inside,  at  the  first  glance  around,  Torres  knew 
the  room  for  what  it  was,  her  sleeping  chamber.  But 
*  his  eyes  had  little  space  for  such  details.  Lifting  the  lid 
of  a  heavy  chest  of  ironwood,  brass-bound,  she  motioned 
him  to  look  in.  He  obeyed,  and  saw  the  amazement  of 
the  world.  The  little  maid  had  spoken  true.  Like  so 
much  shelled  corn,  the  chest  was  filled  with  an  incalculable 
treasure  of  gems  —  diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds,  sapphires, 
the  most  precious,  the  purest  and  largest  of  their  kinds. 

"  Thrust  in  your  arms  to  the  shoulders,"  she  said, 
"  and  make  sure  that  these  baubles  be  real  and  of  the 
adamant  of  flint,  rather  than  illusions  and  reflections  of 
unreality  dreamed  real  in  a  dream.  Thus  may  you  make 
certain  report  to  your  very  rich  friend  who  is  to  marry 


me." 


And  Torres,  the  madness  of  the  ancient  drink  like  fire 
in  his  brain,  did  as  he  was  told. 

"  These  trifles  of  glass  are  such  an  astonishment?  "  she 
plagued.  "  Your  eyes  are  as  if  they  were  witnessing 
great  wonders." 

"  I  never  dreamed  in  all  the  world  there  was  such  a 
treasure,"  he  muttered  in  his  drunkenness. 

"They  are  beyond  price?" 

"  They  are  beyond  price." 

"  They  are  beyond  the  value  of  valor,  and  love,  and 
honor?" 

"  They  are  beyond  all  things.     They  are  a  madness." 

"  Can  a  woman's  or  a  man's  true  love  be  purchased  by 
them?" 

"  They  can  purchase  all  the  world." 

"  Come,"  the  Queen  said.  "  You  are  a  man.  You 
have  held  women  in  your  arms.  Will  they  purchase 
women  ?  " 

"  Since  the  beginning  of  time  women  have  been  bought 


248  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

and  sold  for  them,  and  for  them  women  have  sold  them 
selves." 

"  Will  they  buy  me  the  heart  of  your  good  friend 
Francis?" 

For  the  first  time  Torres  looked  at  her,  and  nodded 
and  muttered,  his  eyes  swimming  with  drink  and  wild- 
eyed  with  sight  of  such  array  of  gems. 

"  Will  good  Francis  so  value  them  ?  " 

Torres  nodded  speechlessly. 

"  Do  all  persons  so  value  them?  " 

Again  he  nodded  emphatically. 

She  began  to  laugh  in  silvery  derision.  Bending,  at 
haphazard  she  clutched  a  priceless  handful  of  the  pretties. 

"  Come,"  she  commanded.  "  I  will  show  you  how  I 
value  them." 

She  led  him  across  the  room  and  out  on  a  platform 
that  extended  around  three  sides  of  a  space  of  water,  the 
fourth  side  being  the  perpendicular  cliff.  At  the  base  of 
the  cliff  the  water  formed  a  whirlpool  that  advertised  the 
drainage  exit  for  the  lake  which  Torres  had  heard  the 
Morgans  speculate  about. 

With  another  silvery  tease  of  laughter,  the  Queen 
tossed  the  handful  of  priceless  gems  into  the  heart  of  the 
whirlpool. 

"  Thus  I  value  them,"  she  said. 

Torres  was  aghast,  and,  for  the  nonce,  well-nigh 
sobered  by  such  wantonness. 

"  And  they  never  come  back,"  she  laughed  on.  "  Noth 
ing  ever  comes  back.  Look !  " 

She  flung  in  a  handful  of  flowers  that  raced  around  and 
around  the  whirl  and  quickly  sucked  down  from  sight  in 
the  center  of  it. 

"  If  nothing  comes  back,  where  does  everything  go?" 
Torres  asked  thickly. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  249 

The  Queen  shrugged  her  shoulders,  although  he  knew 
that  she  knew  the  secret  of  the  waters. 

"  More  than  one  man  has  gone  that  way,"  she  said 
dreamily.  "  No  one  of  them  has  ever  returned.  My 
mother  went  that  way,  after  she  was  dead.  I  was  a 
girl  then."  She  roused.  "  But  you,  helmeted  one,  go 
now.  Make  report  to  your  master  —  your  friend,  I 
mean.  Tell  him  what  I  possess  for  a  dowry.  And,  if 
he  be  half  as  mad  as  you  about  the  bits  of  glass,  swiftly 
will  his  arms  surround  me.  I  shall  remain  here  and  in 
dreams  await  his  coming.  The  play  of  the  water  fasci 
nates  me." 

Dismissed,  Torres  entered  the  sleeping  chamber,  crept 
back  to  steal  a  glimpse  of  the  Queen,  and  saw  her  sunk 
down  on  the  platform,  head  on  hand,  and  gazing  into  the 
whirlpoo).  Swiftly  he  made  his  way  to  the  chest,  lifted 
the  lid,  and  stowed  a  scooping  handful  into  his  trousers' 
pocket.  Ere  he  could  scoop  a  second  handful,  the  mock 
ing  laughter  of  the  Queen  was  at  his  back. 

Fear  and  rage  mastered  him  to  such  extent,  that  he 
sprang  toward  her,  and  pursuing  her  out  upon  the  plat 
form,  was  only  prevented  from  seizing  her  by  the  dagger 
she  threatened  him  with. 

"  Thief,"'  she  said  quietly.  "  Without  honor  are  you. 
And  the  way  of  all  thieves  in  this  valley  is  death.  I  shall 
summon  my  spearmen  and  have  you  thrown  into  the 
whirling  water." 

And  his  extremity  gave  Torres  cunning.  Glancing 
apprehensively  at  the  water  that  threatened  him,  he 
ejaculated  a  cry  of  horror  as  if  at  what  strange  thing 
he  had  seen,  sank  down  on  one  knee,  and  buried  his 
convulsed  face  of  simulated  fear  in  his  hands.  The 
Queen  looked  sidewise  to  see  what  he  had  seen.  Which 
was  his  moment.  He  rose  in  the  air  upon  her  like  a 


250  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

leaping  tiger,  clutching  her  wrists  and  wresting  the  dagger 
from  her. 

He  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  face  and  trembled  while 
he  slowly  recovered  himself.  Meanwhile  she  gazed  up 
on  him  curiously,  without  fear. 

'  You  are  a  woman  of  evil,"  he  snarled  at  her,  still 
shaking  with  rage,  "  a  witch  that  traffics  with  the  powers 
of  darkness  and  all  devilish  things.  Yet  are  you*' woman, 
born  of  woman,  and  therefore  mortal.  The  weakness 
of  mortality  and  of  woman  is  yours,  wherefore  I  give  you 
now  your  choice  of  two  things.  Either  you  shall  be 
thrown  into  the  whirl  of  water  and  perish  or  .  .  ." 

"Or?"  she  prompted. 

"  Or  .  .  ."  He  paused,  licked  his  dry  lips,  and  burst 
forth.  "  No!  By  the  Mother  of  God,  I  am  not  afraid. 
Or  marry  me  this  day,  which  is  the  other  choice." 

'  You  would  marry  me  for  me?     Or  for  the  treasure  ?  " 

"  For  the  treasure,"  he  admitted  brazenly. 

"  But  it  is  written  in  the  Book  of  Life  that  I  shall 
marry  Francis,"  she  objected. 

"  Then  will  we  rewrite  that  page  in  the  Book  of  Life." 

"  As  if  it  could  be  done!  "  she  laughed. 

"  Then  will  I  prove  your  mortality  there  in  the  whirl 
whither  I  shall  fling  you  as  you  flung  the  flowers." 

Truly  intrepid  Torres  was  for  the  time  —  intrepid  be 
cause  of  the  ancient  drink  that  burned  in  his  blood  and 
brain,  and  because  he  was  master  of  the  situation.  Also, 
like  a  true  Latin-American,  he  loved  a  scene  wherein  he 
could  strut  and  elocute. 

Yet  she  startled  him  by  emitting  a  hiss  similar  to  the 
Latin  way  of  calling  a  servitor.  He  regarded  her  sus 
piciously,  glanced  at  the  doorway  to  the  sleeping  chamber, 
then  returned  his  gaze  to  her. 

Like  a  ghost,  seeing  it  only  vaguely  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye,  the  great  white  hound  erupted  through  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  251 

doorway.  Startled  again,  Torres  involuntarily  stepped 
to  the  side.  But  his  foot  failed  to  come  to  rest  on  the 
emptiness  of  air  it  encountered,  and  the  weight  of  his 
body  toppled  him  down  off  the  platform  into  the  water. 
Even  as  he  fell  and  screamed  his  despair,  he  saw  the 
hound  in  mid-air  leap  after  him. 

Swimmer  that  he  was,  Torres  was  like  a  straw  in  the 
grip  of  the  current;  and  the  Lady  Who  Dreams,  gazing 
down  upon  him  fascinated  from  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
saw  him  disappear,  and  the  hound  after  him,  into  the 
heart  of  the  whirlpool  from  which  there  was  no  return. 


CHAPTER  XX 

LONG  the  Lady  Who  Dreams  gazed  down  at  the  play 
ing  waters.  At  last,  with  a  sighed,  "  My  poor  dog,"  she 
arose.  The  passing  of  Torres  had  meant  nothing  to  her. 
Accustomed  from  girlhood  to  exercise  the  high  powers  of 
life  and  death  over  her  semi-savage  and  degenerate  peo 
ple,  human  life,  per  se,  had  no  sacredness  to  her.  If  life 
were  good  and  lovely,  then,  naturally,  it  was  the  right 
thing  to  let  it  live.  But  if  life  were  evil,  ugly,  and  dan 
gerous  to  other  lives,  then  the  thing  was  to  let  it  die  or 
make  it  die.  Thus,  to  her,  Torres  had  been  an  episode  — 
unpleasant,  but  quickly  over.  But  it  was  too  bad  about 
the  dog. 

Clapping  her  hands  loudly  as  she  entered  her  chamber, 
to  summon  one  of  her  women,  she  made  sure  that  the 
lid  of  the  jewel  chest  was  raised.  To  the  woman  she 
gave  a  command,  and  herself  returned  to  the  platform 
where  she  could  look  into  the  room  unobserved. 

A  few  minutes  later,  guided  by  the  woman,  Francis 
entered  the  chamber  and  was  left  alone.  He  was  not  in 
a  happy  mood.  Fine  as  had  been  his  giving  up  of  Leon- 
cia,  he  got  no  pleasure  from  the  deed.  Nor  was  there 
any  pleasure  in  looking  forward  to  marrying  the  strange 
lady  who  ruled  over  the  Lost  Souls  and  resided  in  this 
weird  lake-dwelling.  Unlike  Torres,  however,  she  did 
not  arouse  in  him  fear  or  animosity.  Quite  to  the  con 
trary,  Francis'  feeling  toward  her  was  largely  that  of 
pity.  He  could  not  help  but  be  impressed  by  the  tragic 
pathos  of  the  ripe  and  lovely  woman  desperately  seeking 
love  and  a  mate,  despite  her  imperious  and  cavalier 
methods. 

At  a  glance  he  recognized  the  room  for  what  it  was, 

252 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  253 

and  idly  wondered  if  he  were  already  considered  the 
bridegroom,  sans  discussion,  sans  acquiescence,  sans  cere 
mony.  In  his  brown  study,  the  chest  scarcely  caught 
his  attention.  The  Queen,  watching,  saw  him  evidently 
waiting  for  her,  and,  after  a  few  minutes,  walk  over  to 
the  chest.  He  gathered  up  a  handful  of  the  gems,  dropped 
them  one  by  one  carelessly  back  as  if  they  had  been  so 
many  marbles,  and  turned  and  strolled  over  to  examine 
the  leopard  skins  on  her  couch.  Next,  he  sat  down  upon 
it,  oblivious  equally  of  touch  or  treasure.  All  of  which 
was  provocative  of  such  delight  to  the  Queen  that  she 
could  no  longer  withstrain  herself  to  mere  spying.  Enter 
ing  the  room  and  greeting  him,  she  laughed : 

"  Was  Seiior  Torres  a  liar?  " 

"Was?"  Francis  queried,  for  the  need  of  saying 
something,  as  he  rose  before  her. 

"  He  no  longer  is,"  she  assured  him.  "  Which  is 
neither  here  nor  there,"  she  hastened  on  as  Francis  be 
gan  to  betray  interest  in  the  matter  of  Torres'  end.  "  He 
is  gone,  and  it  is  well  that  he  is  gone,  for  he  can  never 
come  back.  But  he  did  lie,  didn't  he?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  Francis  replied.  "  He  is  a  confound 
ed  liar." 

He  could  not  help  noticing  the  way  her  face  fell  when 
he  so  heartily  agreed  with  her  concerning  Torres'  veracity. 

"What  did  he  say?  "  Francis  questioned. 

"  That  he  was  the  one  selected  to  marry  me," 

"  A  liar,"  Francis  commented  dryly. 

"  Next  he  said  that  you  were  the  selected  one  —  which 
was  also  a  lie,"  her  voice  trailed  off. 

Francis  shook  his  head. 

The  involuntary  cry  of  joy  the  Queen  uttered  touched 
his  heart  to  such  tenderness  of  pity  that  almost  did  he  put 
his  arms  around  her  to  sooth  her.  She  waited  for  him 
to  speak. 


254  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  I  am  the  one  to  marry  you,"  he  went  on  steadily. 
'  You  are  very  beautiful.     When  shall  we  be  married?  " 

The  wild  joy  in  her  face  was  such  that  he  swore  to 
himself  that  never  would  he  willingly  mar  that  face 
with  marks  of  sorrow.  She  might  be  ruler  over  the  Lost 
Souls,  with  the  wealth  of  Ind  and  with  supernatural 
powers  of  mirror-gazing;  but  most  poignantly  she  ap 
pealed  to  him  as  a  lonely  and  naive  woman,  overspilling 
of  love  and  totally  unversed  in  love. 

"  And  I  shall  tell  you  of  another  lie  this  Torres  animal 
told  to  me,"  she  burst  forth  exultantly.  "  He  told  me 
that  you  were  rich,  and  that,  before  you  married  me, 
you  desired  to  know  what  wealth  was  mine.  He  told  me 
you  had  sent  him  to  inquire  into  what  riches  I  possessed. 
This  I  know  was  a  lie.  You  are  not  marrying  me  for 
that !  "  -  with  a  scornful  gesture  at  the  jewel  chest. 

Francis  shook  his  head. 

'  You  are  marrying  me  for  myself,"  she  rushed  on  in 
triumph. 

'  You  yourself/'  Francis  could  not  help  but  lie. 

And  then  he  beheld  an  amazing  thing.  The  Queen, 
this  Queen  who  was  the  sheerest  autocrat,  who  said  come 
here  and  go  there,  who  dismissed  the  death  of  Torres 
with  its  mere  announcement,  and  who  selected  her  royal 
spouse  without  so  much  as  consulting  his  prenuptial 
wishes,  this  Queen  began  to  blush.  Up  her  neck,  flooding 
her  face  to  her  ears  and  forehead,  welled  the  pink  tide  of 
maidenly  modesty  and  embarrassment.  And  such  sight 
of  faltering  made  Francis  likewise  falter.  He  knew  not 
what  to  do,  and  felt  a  warmth  of  blood  rising  under  the 
sun-tan  of  his  own  face.  Never,  he  thought,  had  there 
been  a  man-and-woman  situation  like  it  in  all  the  history 
of  men  and  women.  The  mutual  embarrassment  of  the 
pair  of  them  was  appalling,  and  to  save  his  life  he  could 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  255 

not  have  summoned  a  jot  of  initiative.     Thus,  the  Queen 
was  compelled  to  speak  first. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  blushing  still  more  furiously, 
"  you  must  make  love  to  me." 

Francis  strove  to  speak,  but  his  lips  were  so  dry  that 
he  licked  them  and  succeeded  only  in  stammering  inco 
herently. 

"  I  never  have  been  loved,"  the  Queen  continued  brave 
ly.  "  The  affairs  of  my  people  are  not  love.  My  people 
are  animals  without  reason.  But  we,  you  and  I,  are  man 
and  woman.  There  must  be  wooing,  and  tenderness  — 
that  much  I  have  learned  from  my  Mirror  of  the  World. 
But  I  am  unskilled.  I  know  not  how.  But  you,  from 
out  of  the  great  world,  must  surely  know.  I  wait.  You 
must  love  me." 

She  sank  down  upon  the  couch,  drawing  Francis  beside 
her,  and,  true  to  her  word,  proceeded  to  wait.  While  he, 
bidden  to  love  at  command,  was  paralyzed  by  the  prepos 
terous  impossibility  of  so  obeying. 

"  Am  I  not  beautiful?  "  the  Queen  queried  after  another 
pause.  "  Are  not  your  arms  as  mad  to  be  about  me  as  I 
am  mad  to  have  them  about  me?  Never  have  a  man's 
lips  touched  my  lips.  What  is  a  kiss  like  —  on  the  lips, 
I  mean?  Your  lips  on  my  hand  were  ecstasy.  You 
kissed  then,  not  alone  my  hand,  but  my  soul.  My  heart 
was  there,  throbbing  against  the  press  of  your  lips.  Did 
you  not  feel  it?" 

"  And  so,"  she  was  saying,  half  an  hour  later,  as  they 
sat  on  the  couch  hand  in  hand,  "  I  have  told  you  the  little 
I  know  of  myself.  I  do  not  know  the  past,  except  what  I 
have  been  told  of  it.  The  present  I  see  clearly  in  my 
Mirror  of  the  World.  The  future  I  can  likewise  see,  but 
vaguely ;  nor  can  I  always  understand  what  I  see.  I  was 


256  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

born  here.  So  was  my  mother,  and  her  mother.  How  it 
chanced  is  that  always  into  the  life  of  each  Queen  came  a 
lover.  Sometimes,  as  you,  they  came  here.  My  mother's 
mother,  so  it  was  told  me,  left  the  valley  to  find  her  lover 
and  was  gone  a  long  time  —  for  years.  So  did  my 
mother  go  forth.  The  secret  way  is  known  to  me,  where 
the  long  dead  conquistadores  guard  the  Maya  mysteries, 
and  where  Da  Vasco  himself  stands  whose  helmet  this 
Torres  animal  had  the  impudence  to  steal  and  claim  for 
his  own.  Had  you  not  come,  I  should  have  been  com 
pelled  to  go  forth  and  find  you,  for  you  were  my  appoint 
ed  one  and  had  to  be." 

A  woman  entered,  followed  by  a  spearman,  and  Fran 
cis  could  scarcely  make  his  way  through  the  quaint  an 
tiquated  Spanish  of  the  conversation  that  ensued.  In 
commingled  anger  and  joy,  the  Queen  epitomized  it  to 
him.  / 

"  We  are  to  depart  now  to  the  Long  House  for  our 
wedding.  The  Priest  of  the  Sun  is  stubborn,  I  know  not 
why,  save  that  he  has  been  balked  of  the  blood  of  all  of 
you  on  his  altar.  He  is  very  bloodthirsty.  He  is  the 
Sun  Priest,  but  he  is  possessed  of  little  reason.  I  have 
report  that  he  is  striving  to  turn  the  people  against  our 
wedding  —  the  dog!  "  She  clinched  her  hands,  her  face 
set,  and  her  eyes  blazed  with  royal  fury.  "  He  shall 
marry  us,  by  the  ancient  custom,  before  the  Long  House, 
at  the  Altar  of  the  Sun." 

"  It's  not  too  late,  Francis,  to  change  your  mind," 
Henry  urged.  "  Besides,  it  is  not  fair.  The  short 
straw  was  mine.  Am  I  not  right,  Leoncia?  " 

Leoncia  could  not  reply.  They  stood  in  a  group,  at 
the  forefront  of  the  assembled  Lost  Souls,  before  the 
altar.  Inside  the  Long  House  the  Queen  and  the  Sun 
Priest  were  closeted.  "  You  wouldn't  want  to  see  Henry 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  257 

marry    her,    would    you,    Leoncia?"    Francis    argued. 

"  Nor  you,  either,"  Leoncia  countered.  "  Torres  is  the 
only  one  I'd  like  to  have  seen  marry  her.  I  don't  like 
her.  I  would  not  care  to  see  any  friend  of  mine  her 
husband." 

"  You're  almost  jealous,"  commented  Henry.  "  Just 
the  same,  Francis  doesn't  seem  so  very  cast  down  over 
his  fate." 

"  She's  not  at  all  bad,"  Francis  retorted.  "  And  I  can 
accept  my  fate  with  dignity,  if  not  with  equanimity.  And 
I'll  tell  you  something  else,  Henry,  now  that  you  are  harp 
ing  on  this  strain:  she  wouldn't  marry  you  if  you  asked 
her." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Henry  began. 

"  Then  ask  her,"  was  the  challenge.  "  Here  she  comes 
now.  Look  at  her  eyes.  There's  trouble  brewing.  And 
the  priest's  as  black  as  thunder.  You  just  propose  to  her 
and  see  what  chance  you've  got  while  I'm  around." 

Henry  nodded  his  head  stubbornly. 

"  I  will  —  but  not  to  show  you  what  kind  of  a  woman- 
conqueror  I  am,  but  for  the  sake  of  fair  play.  I  wasn't 
playing  the  game  when  I  accepted  your  sacrifice  of  your 
self,  but  I  am  going  to  play  the  game  now." 

Before  they  could  prevent  him,  he -had  thrust  his  way 
to  the  Queen,  shouldered  in  between  her  and  the  priest, 
and  begun  to  speak  earnestly.  And  the  Queen  laughed  as 
she  listened.  But  her  laughter  was  not  for  Henry.  With 
shining  triumph  she  laughed  across  at  Leoncia. 

Not  many  moments  were  required  to  say  no  to  Henry's 
persuasions,  whereupon  the  Queen  joined  Leoncia  and 
Francis,  the  priest  tagging  at  her  heels,  and  Henry,  fol 
lowing  more  slowly,  trying  to  conceal  the  gladness  that 
was  his  at  being  rejected. 

"What  do  you  think?  "  the  Queen  addressed  Leoncia 
directly.  "  Good  Henry  has  just  asked  me  to  marry  him, 


258  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

which  makes  the  fourth  this  day.  Am  I  not  well  loved? 
Have  you  ever  had  four  lovers,  all  desiring  to  marry  you 
on  your  wedding  day  ?  " 

"  Four !  "  Francis  exclaimed. 
The  Queen  looked  at  him  tenderly. 
;<  Yourself,  and  Henry  whom  I  have  just  declined. 
And,  before  either  of  you,  this  day,  the  insolent  Torres; 
and,  just  now,  in  the  Long  House,  the  priest  here." 
Wrath  began  to  fire  her  eyes  and  cheeks  at  the  recollec 
tion.  "  This  Priest  of  the  Sun,  this  priest  long  since  rene 
gade  to  his  vows,  this  man  who  is  only  half  a  man, 
wanted  me  to  marry  him !  The  dog !  The  beast !  And 
he  had  the  insolence  to  say,  at  the  end,  that  I  should  not 
marry  Francis.  Come.  I  will  show  him." 

She  nodded  her  own  private  spearmen  up  about  the 
group,  and  with  her  eyes  directed  two  of  them  behind 
the  priest  to  include  him.  At  sight  of  this  murmurs 
began  to  arise  in  the  crowd. 

"  Proceed,  priest,"  the  Queen  commanded  harshly. 
"  Else  will  my  men  kill  you  now." 

He  turned  sharply  about,  as  if  to  appeal  to  the  people, 
but  the  speech  that  trembled  to  his  lips  died  unuttered  at 
sight  of  the  spear-points  at  his  breast.  He  bowed  to  the 
inevitable,  and  led  the  way  close  to  the  altar,  placing  the 
Queen  and  Francis  facing  him,  while  he  stood  above  on 
the  platform  of  the  altar,  looking  at  them  and  over  them 
at  the  Lost  Souls. 

"  I  am  the  Priest  of  the  Sun,"  he  began.  "  My  vows 
are  holy.  As  the  vowed  priest  I  am  to  marry  this  woman, 
the  Lady  Who  Dreams,  to  this  stranger  and  intruder, 
whose  blood  is  already  forfeit  to  our  altar.  My  vows  are 
holy.  I  cannot  be  false  to  them.  I  refuse  to  marry  this 
woman  to  this  man.  In  the  name  of  the  Sun  God  I  re 
fuse  to  perform  this  ceremony  — 

"  Then  shall  you  die,  priest,  here  and  now,"  the  Queen 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  259 

hissed  at  him,  nodding  the  near  spearmen  to  lift  their 
spears  against  him,  and  nodding  the  other  spearmen  to 
face  the  murmuring  and  semi-mutinous  Lost  Souls. 

Followed  a  pregnant  pause.  For  less  than  a  minute, 
but  for  nearly  a  minute,  no  word  was  uttered,  no  thought 
was  betrayed  by  a  restless  movement.  All  stood,  like  so 
many  statues ;  and  all  gazed  upon  the  priest  against  whose 
heart  the  poised  spears  rested. 

He,  whose  blood  of  heart  and  life  was  nearest  at  stake 
in  the  issue,  was  the  first  to  act.  He  gave  in.  Calmly 
he  turned  his  back  to  the  threatening  spears,  knelt,  and, 
in  archaic  Spanish,  prayed  an  invocation  of  fruitfulness 
to  the  Sun.  Returning  to  the  Queen  and  Francis,  with  a 
gesture  he  made  them  fully  bow  and  almost  half  kneel 
before  him.  As  he  touched  their  heads  with  his  finger 
tips  he  could  not  forbear  the  involuntary  scowl  that  con 
vulsed  his  features. 

As  the  couple  arose,  at  his  indication,  he  broke  a  small 
corn-cake  in  two,  handing  a  half  to  each. 

"  The  Eucharist,"  Henry  whispered  to  Leoncia,  as  the 
pair  crumbled  and  ate  their  portions  of  cake. 

"  The  Roman  Catholic  worship  Da  Vasco  must  have 
brought  in  with  him,  twisted  about  until  it  is  now  the  mar 
riage  ceremony/'  she  whispered  back  in  comprehension, 
although,  at  sight  of  Francis  thus  being  lost  to  her,  she 
was  holding  herself  tightly  for  control,  her  lips  bloodless 
and  stretched  to  thinness,  her  nails  hurting  into  her  palms. 

From  the  altar  the  priest  took  and  presented  to  the 
Queen  a  tiny  dagger  and  a  tiny  golden  cup.  She  spoke 
to  Francis,  who  rolled  up  his  sleeve  and  presented  to  her 
his  bared  left  forearm.  About  to  scarify  his  flesh,  she 
paused,  considered  till  all  could  see  her  visibly  think,  and, 
instead  of  breaking  his  skin,  she  touched  the  dagger  point 
carefully  to  her  tongue. 

And  then  arose  rage.     At  the  taste  of  the  blade  she 


260  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

threw  the  weapon  from  her,  half  sprang  at  the  priest, 
half  gave  command  at  her  spearmen  for  the  death  of  him, 
and  shook  and  trembled  in  the  violence  of  her  effort  for 
self-possession.  Following  with  her  eyes  the  flight  of  the 
dagger  to  assure  herself  that  its  poisoned  point  should  not 
strike  the  flesh  of  another  and  wreak  its  evilness  upon  it, 
she  drew  from  the  breast-fold  of  her  dress  another  tiny 
dagger.  This,  too,  she  tested  with  her  tongue,  ere  she 
broke  Francis'  skin  with  the  point  of  it  and  caught  in  the 
cup  of  gold  the  several  red  blood-drops  that  exuded  from 
the  incision.  Francis  repeated  the  same  for  her  and  on 
her,  whereupon,  under  her  flashing  eyes,  the  priest  took 
the  cup  and  offered  the  commingled  blood  upon  the  altar. 

Came  a  pause.     The  Queen  frowned. 

"If  blood  is  to  be  shed  this  day  on  the  altar  of  the 
Sun  God  —  "  she  began  threateningly. 

And  the  priest,  as  if  recollecting  what  he  was  loath  to 
do,  turned  to  the  people  and  made  solemn  pronouncement 
that  the  twain  were  man  and  wife.  The  Queen  turned  to 
Francis  with  glowing  invitation  to  his  arms.  As  he 
folded  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  eager  lips,  Leoncia 
gasped  and  leaned  closely  to  Henry  for  support.  Nor  did 
Francis  fail  to  observe  and  understand  her  passing  indis 
position,  although  when  the  flush-faced  Queen  next 
sparkled  triumph  at  her  sister  woman,  Leoncia  was  to  all 
appearances  proudly  indifferent. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Two  thoughts  flickered  in  Torres'  mind  as  he  was 
sucked  down.  The  first  was  of  the  great  white  hound 
which  had  leaped  after  him.  The  second  was  that  the 
Mirror  of  the  World  told  lies.  That  this  was  his  end  he 
was  certain,  yet  the  little  he  had  dared  permit  himself  to 
glimpse  in  the  Mirror  had  given  no  hint  of  an  end  any 
thing  like  this. 

A  good  swimmer,  as  he  was  engulfed  and  sucked  on 
in  rapid,  fluid  darkness,  he  knew  fear  that  he  might  have 
his  brains  knocked  out  by  the  stone  walls  or  roof  of  the 
subterranean  passage  through  which  he  was  being  swept. 
But  the  freak  of  the  currents  was  such  that  not  once  did 
he  collide  with  any  part  of  his  anatomy.  Sometimes  he 
was  aware  of  being  banked  against  water-cushions  that 
tokened  the  imminence  of  a  wall  or  bowlder,  at  which 
times  he  shrank  as  it  were  into  smaller  compass,  like  a 
sea-turtle  drawing  in  its  head  before  the  onslaught  of 
sharks. 

Less,  than  a  minute,  as  he  measured  the  passage  of 
time  by  the  holding  of  his  breath,  elapsed,  ere,  in  an  easier- 
flowing  stream,  his  head  emerged  above  the  surface  and 
he  refreshed  his  lungs  with  great  inhalations  of  cool  air. 
Instead  of  swimming,  he  contented  himself  with  keeping 
afloat,  and  with  wondering  what  had  happened  to  the 
hound  and  what  next  excitement  would  vex  his  under 
ground  adventure. 

Soon  he  glimpsed  light  ahead,  the  dim  but  unmistak 
able  light  of  day ;  and,  as  the  way  grew  brighter,  he  turned 
his  face  back  and  saw  what  made  him  proceed  to  swim 
with  a  speed-stroke.  What  he  saw  was  the  hound,  swim- 

261 


262  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

ming  high,  with  the  teeth  of  its  huge  jaws  gleaming  in  the 
increasing  light.  Under  the  source  of  the  light,  he  saw  a 
shelving  bank  and  climbed  out.  His  first  thought,  which 
he  half  carried  out,  was  to  reach  into  his  pocket  for  the 
gems  he  had  stolen  from  the  Queen's  chest.  But  a  rever 
berant  barking  that  grew  to  thunder  in  the  cavern  re 
minded  him  of  his  fanged  pursuer,  and  he  drew  forth  the 
Queen's  dagger  instead. 

Again  two  thoughts  divided  his  judgment  for  action. 
Should  he  try  to  kill  the  swimming  brute  ere  it  landed? 
Or  should  he  retreat  up  the  rocks  toward  the  light  on 
the  chance  that  the  stream  might  carry  the  hound  past 
him?  His  judgment  settled  on  the  second  course  of 
action,  and  he  fled  upward  along  a  narrow  ledge.  But 
the  dog  landed  and  followed  with  such  four-footed  cer 
tainty  of  speed  that  it  swiftly  overtook  him.  Torres 
turned  at  bay  on  the  cramped  footing,  crouched,  and 
brandished  the  dagger  against  the  brute's  leap. 

But  the  hound  did  not  leap.  Instead,  playfully,  with 
jaws  widespread  of  laughter,  it  sat  down  and  extended 
its  right  paw  in  greeting.  As  he  took  the  paw  in  his 
hand  and  shook  it,  Torres  almost  collapsed  in  the  revul 
sion  of  relief.  He  laughed  with  exuberant  shrillness  that 
advertised  semi-hysteria,  and  continued  to  pump  the 
hound's  leg  up  and  down,  while  the  hound,  with  wide  jaws 
and  gentle  eyes,  laughed  as  exuberantly  back. 

Pursuing  the  shelf,  the  hound  contentedly  at  heel  and 
occasionally  sniffing  his  calves,  Torres  found  that  the  nar 
row  track  paralleling  the  river,  after  an  ascent  descended 
to  it  again.  And  then  Torres  saw  two  things,  one  that 
made  him  pause  and  shudder,  and  one  that  made  his  heart 
beat  high  with  hope.  The  first  was  the  underground 
river.  Rushing  straight  at  the  wall  of  rock,  it  plunged 
into  it  in  a  chaos  of  foam  and  turbulence,  with  stiffly  ser 
rated  and  spitefully  spitting  waves  that  advertised  its 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  263 

swiftness  and  momentum.  The  second  was  an  opening 
to  one  side,  through  which  streamed  white  daylight.  Pos 
sibly  fifteen  feet  in  diameter  was  this  opening,  but  across 
it  was  stretched  a  spider  web  more  monstrous  than  any 
product  of  a  madman's  fancy.  Most  ominous  of  all  was 
the  debris  of  bones  that  lay  beneath.  The  threads  of  the 
web  were  of  silver  and  of  the  thickness  of  a  lead  pencil. 
He  shuddered  as  he  touched  a  thread  with  his  hand. 
It  clung  to  his  flesh  like  glue,  and  only  by  an  effort  that 
agitated  the  entire  web  did  he  succeed  in  freeing  his  hand. 
Upon  his  clothes  and  upon  the  coat  of  the  dog  he  rubbed 
off  the  stickiness  from  his  skin. 

Between  two  of  the  lower  guys  of  the  great  web 
he  saw  that  there  was  space  for  him  to  crawl  through 
the  opening  to  the  day;  but,  ere  he  attempted  it, 
caution  led  him  to  test  the  opening  by  helping  and 
shoving  the  hound  ahead  of  him.  The  white  beast 
crawled  and  scrambled  out  of  sight,  and  Torres  was 
about  to  follow  when  it  returned.  Such  was  the 
panic  haste  of  its  return  that  it  collided  with  him  and 
both  fell.  But  the  man  managed  to  save  himself  by  cling 
ing  with  his  hands  to  the  rocks,  while  the  four-footed 
brute,  not  able  so  to  check  itself,  fell  into  the  churning 
water.  Even  as  Torres  reached  a  hand  out  to  try  to 
save  it,  the  dog  was  carried  under  the  rock. 

Long  Torres  debated.  That  farther  subterranean 
plunge  of  the  river  was  dreadful  to  contemplate.  Above 
was  the  open  way  to  the  day,  and  the  life  of  him  yearned 
toward  the  day  as  a  bee  or  flower  toward  the  sun.  Yet 
what  had  the  hound  encountered  to  drive  it  back  in 
such  precipitate  retreat?  As  he  pondered,  he  became 
aware  that  his  hand  was  resting  on  a  rounded  surface. 
He  picked  the  object  up,  and  gazed  into  the  eyeless,  nose 
less  features  of  a  human  skull.  His  frightened  glances 
played  over  the  carpet  of  bones,  and,  beyond  all  doubt, 


264  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

he  made  out  the  ribs  and  spinal  columns  and  thigh  bones 
of  what  had  once  been  men.  This  inclined  him  toward 
the  water  as  the  way  out,  but  at  sight  of  the  foaming 
madness  of  it  plunging  through  rock  he  recoiled. 

Drawing  the  Queen's  dagger,  he  crawled  up  between 
the  web-guys  with  infinite  carefulness,  saw  what  the  hound 
had  seen,  and  came  back  in  such  vertigo  of  retreat  that 
he,  too,  fell  into  the  water,  and,  with  but  time  to  fill  his 
lungs  with  air,  was  drawn  into  the  opening  and  into 
darkness. 

In  the  meanwhile,  back  at  the  lake  dwelling  of  the 
Queen,  events  no  less  portentous  were  occurring  with  no 
less  equal  rapidity.  Just  returned  from  the  ceremony  at 
the  Long  House,  the  wedding  party  was  in  the  action  of 
seating  itself  for  what  might  be  called  the  wedding  break 
fast,  when  an  arrow,  penetrating  an  interstice  in  the  bam 
boo  wall,  flashed  between  the  Queen  and  Francis  and 
traitsfixed  the  opposite  wall,  where  its  feathered  shaft 
vibrated  from  the  violence  of  its  suddenly  arrested  flight. 
A  rush  to  the  windows  looking  out  upon  the  narrow 
bridge,  showed  Henry  and  Francis  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  Even  as  they  looked,  they  saw  the  Queen's 
spearman,  who  guarded  the  approach  to  the  bridge,  mid 
way  across  it  in  flight,  falling  into  the  water  with  the  shaft 
of  an  arrow  vibrating  out  of  his  back  in  similar  fashion 
to  the  one  in  theXvall  of  the  room.  Beyond  the  bridge, 
in  the  shore,  headed  by  their  priest  and  backed  by  their 
women  and  children,  all  the  male  Lost  Souls  were  arch 
ing  the  air  full  with  feathered  bolts  from  their  bows. 

A  spearman  of  the  Queen  tottered  into  the  apartment, 
his  limbs  spreading  vainly  to  support  him,  his  eye  glazing, 
his  lips  beating  a  soundless  message  which  his  fading  life 
could  not  utter,  as  he  fell  prone,  his  back  bristling  with 
arrow  shafts  like  a  porcupine.  Henry  sprang  to  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  265 

door  that  gave  entrance  from  the  bridge,  and,  with  his 
automatic,  swept  it  clear  of  the  charging  Lost  Souls  who 
could  advance  only  in  single  file  and  who  fell  as  they 
advanced  before  his  fire. 

The  siege  of  the  frail  house  was  brief.  Though  Fran 
cis,  protected  by  Henry's  automatic,  destroyed  the  bridge, 
by  no  method  could  the  besieged  put  out  the  blazing  thatch 
of  roof  ignited  in  a  score  of  places  by  the  fire-arrows 
discharged  under  the  Sun  Priest's  directions. 

"  There  is  but  one  way  to  escape,"  the  Queen  panted, 
on  the  platform  overlooking  the  whirl  of  waters,  as  she 
clasped  one  hand  of  Francis'  in  hers  and  threatened  to 
precipitate  herself  clingingly  into  his  arms.  "  It  wins 
to  the  world."  She  pointed  to  the  sucking  heart  of  the 
whirlpool.  "  No  one  has  ever  returned  from  that.  In 
my  Mirror  I  have  beheld  them  pass,  dead  always,  and  out 
to  the  wider  world.  Except  for  Torres,  I.  have  never 
seen  the  living  go.  Only  the  dead.  And  they  never  re 
turned.  Nor  has  Torres  returned." 

All  eyes  looked  to  all  eyes  at  sight  of  the  dread  fulness 
of  the  way. 

"There  is  no  other  way?"  Henry  demanded,  as  he 
drew  Leoncia  close  to  him. 

The  Queen  shook  her  head.  About  them  already  burn 
ing  portions  of  the  thatch  were  falling,  while  their  ears 
were  deafened  by  the  blood-lust  chantings  of  the  Lost 
Souls  on  the  lake-shore.  The  Queen  disengaged  her  hand 
from  Francis',  with  the  evident  intention  of  dashing  into 
her  sleeping  room,  then  caught  his  hand  and  led  him  in. 
As  he  stood  wonderingly  beside  her,  she  slammed  down 
the  lid  on  the  chest  of  jewels  and  fastened  it.  Next,  she 
kicked  aside  the  floor  matting  and  lifted  a  trap  door  that 
opened  down  to  the  water.  At  her  indication,  Francis 
dragged  over  the  chest  and  dropped  it  through. 

"  Even  the  Sun  Priest  does  not  know  that  hiding  place," 


266 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 


she  whispered,  ere  she  caught  his  hand  again,  and  run 
ning,  led  him  back  to  the  others  on  the  platform. 

"  It  is  now  time  to  depart  from  this  place,"  she  an 
nounced.  "  Hold  me  in  your  arms,  good  Francis,  hus 
band  of  mine,  and  lift  me  and  leap  with  me,"  she  com 
manded.  "  We  will  lead  the  way." 

And  so  they  leapt.  As  the  roof  was  crashing  down  in 
a  wrath  of  fire  and  flying  embers,  Henry  caught  Leoncia 
to  him,  and  sprang  after  into  the  whirl  of  waters  wherein 
Francis  and  the  Queen  had  already  disappeared. 

Like  Torres,  the  four  fugitives  escaped  injury  against 
the  rocks  and  were  borne  onward  by  the  underground 
river  to  the  daylight  opening  where  the  great  spider- 
web  guarded  the  way.  Henry  had  an  easier  time  of  it, 
for  Leoncia  knew  how  to  swim.  But  Francis'  swimming 
prowess  enabled  him  to  keep  the  Queen  up.  She  obeyed 
him  implicitly,  floated  low  in  the  water,  nor  clutched  at  his 
arms  nor  acted  as  a  drag  on  him  in  any  way.  At  the 
ledge,  all  four  drew  out  of  the  water  and  rested.  The 
two  women  devoted  themselves  to  wringing  out  their  hair, 
which  had  been  flung  adrift  all  about  them  by  the  swirl 
ing  currents. 

"  It  is  not  the  first  mountain  I  have  been  in  the  heart 
of  with  you  two,"  Leoncia  laughed  to  the  Morgans,  al 
though  more  than  for  them  was  her  speech  intended  for 
the  Queen. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  in  the  heart  of  a  moun 
tain  with  my  husband,"  the  Queen  laughed  back,  and  the 
barb  of  her  dart  sank  deep  into  Leoncia. 

"  Seems  as  though  your  wife,  Francis,  and  my  wife- 
to-be,  aren't  going  to  hit  it  off  too  well  together,"  Henry 
said,  with  the  sharpness  of  censure  that  man  is  wont  to 
employ  to  conceal  the  embarrassment  caused  by  his 
womenkind. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  267 

And,  as  inevitable  result  of  such  male  man's  ways,  all 
that  Henry  gained  was  a  silence  more  awkward  and  more 
embarrassing.  The  two  women  almost  enjoyed  the  sit 
uation.  Francis  cudgeled  his  brains  vainly  for  some  re 
mark  that  would  ameliorate  matters ;  while  Henry,  in 
desperation,  arose  suddenly  with  the  observation  that  he 
was  going  to  "  explore  a  bit,"  and  invited,  by  his  hand 
out  to  help  her  to  her  feet,  the  Queen  to  accompany  him. 
Francis  and  Leoncia  sat  on  for  a  moment  in  stubborn 
silence.  He  was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"  For  two  cents  I'd  give  you  a  thorough  shaking, 
Leoncia." 

"  And  what  have  I  done  now?  "  she  countered. 

"  As  if  you  didn't  know.  You've  been  behaving 
abominably." 

"  It  is  you  who  have  behaved  abominably,"  she  half- 
sobbed,  in  spite  of  her  determination  to  betray  no  such 
feminine  signs  of  weakness.  "  Who  asked  you  to  marry 
her?  You  did  not  draw  the  short  straw.  Yet  you  must 
volunteer,  must  rush  in  where  even  angels  would  fear  to 
tread!  Did  I  ask  you  to?  Almost  did  my  heart  stop 
beating  when  I  heard  you  tell  Henry  you  would  marry 
her.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  faint.  You  had  not  even 
consulted  me;  yet  it  was  on  my  suggestion,  in  order  to 
save  you  from  her,  that  the  straws  were  drawn  —  yes, 
and  I  am  not  too  little  shameless  to  admit  that  it  was 
because  I  wanted  to  save  you  for  myself.  Henry  does 
not  love  me  as  you  led  me  to  believe  you  loved  me.  I 
never  loved  Henry  as  I  loved  you,  as  I  do  love  you  even 
now,  God  forgive  me." 

Francis  was  swept  beyond  himself.  He  caught  her  and 
pressed  her  to  him  in  a  crushing  embrace. 

"  And  on  your  very  wedding  day,"  she  gasped  re 
proachfully  in  the  midmost  of  his  embrace. 

His  arms  died  away  from  about  her. 


•268  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  And  this  from  you,  Leoncia,  at  such  a  moment,"  he 
murmured  sadly. 

"  And  why  not?  "  she  flared.  "  You  loved  me.  You 
gave  me  to  understand  beyond  all  chance  of  misunder 
standing,  that  you  loved  me;  yet  here,  to-day,  you  went 
out  of  your  way,  went  eagerly  and  gladly,  and  married 
yourself  to  the  first  woman  with  a  white  skin  who  pre 
sented  herself." 

'  You  are  jealous,"  he  charged,  and  knew  a  heart 
throb  of  joy  as  she  nodded.  "  And  I  grant  you  are 
jealous;  but  at  the  same  time,  exercising  the  woman's 
prerogative  of  lying,  you  are  lying  now.  What  I  did, 
was  not  done  eagerly  nor  gladly.  I  did  it  for  your  sake 
and  my  sake  —  or  for  Henry's  sake,  rather.  Thank  God, 
I  have  a  man's  honor  still  left  to  me !  " 

"  Man's  honor  does  not  always  satisfy  woman,"  she 
replied. 

u  Would  you  prefer  me  dishonorable?  "  he  was  swift  on 
the  uptake. 

"  I  am  only  a  woman  who  loves,"  she  pleaded. 

'  You  are  a  stinging,  female  wasp,"  he  raged,  "  and 
you  are  not  fair." 

"Is  any  woman  fair  when  she  loves?"  she  made  the 
great  confession  and  acknowledgment.  "  Men  may  suc 
ceed  in  living  in  their  heads  of  honor ;  but  know,  and  as  a 
humble  woman  I  humbly  state  my  womanhood,  that 
woman  lives  only  in  her  heart  of  love." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Honor,  like  arithmetic,  can 
be  reasoned  and  calculated.  Which  leaves  a  woman  no 
morality,  but  only  .  .  ." 

"  Only  moods,"  Leoncia  completed  abjectly  for  him. 

Calls  from  Henry  and  the  Queen  put  an  end  to  the 
conversation,  for  Leoncia  and  Francis  quickly  joined  the 
others  in  gazing  at  the  great  web. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  269 

"  Did  you  ever  see  so  monstrous  a  web! "  Leoncia  ex 
claimed. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  the  monster  that  made  it,"  said  Henry. 
"  And  I'd  rather  see  than  be  it,"  Francis  paraphrased 
from  the  "  Purple  Cow." 

"  It  is  our  good  fortune  that  we  do  not  have  to  go  that 
way,"  the  Queen  said. 

All  looked  inquiry  at  her,  and  she  pointed  down  to  the 
stream. 

"  That  is  the  way,"  she  said.     "  I  know  it.     Often  and 
often,  in  my  Mirror  of  the  World,  have  I  seen  the  way. 
When  my  mother  died  and  was  buried  in  the  whirlpool, 
I  followed  her  body  in  the  Mirror,  and  I  saw  it  come 
to  this  place  and  go  by  this  place  still  in  the  water." 
"  But  she  was  dead,"  Leoncia  objected  quickly. 
The  rivalry  between  them  fanned  instantly. 
"  One  of  my  spearmen,"  the  Queen  went  on  quietly,  "  a 
handsome  youth,  alas,  dared  to  look  at  me  as  a  lover.     He 
was  flung  in  alive.     I  watched  him,  too,  in  the  Mirror. 
When  he  came  to  this  place  he  climbed  out.     I  saw  him 
crawl  under  the  web  to  the  day,  and  I  saw  him  retreat  back 
ward  from  the  day  and  throw  himself  into  the  stream." 
"  Another  dead  one,"  Henry  commented  grimly. 
"  No ;  for  I  followed  him  on  in  the  Mirror,  and  though 
all  was  darkness  for  a  time  and  I  could  see  nothing,  in  the 
end,  and  shortly,  under  the  sun  he  emerged  into  the  bosom 
of  a  large  river,  and  swam  to  the  shore,  and  climbed  the 
bank  —  it  was  the  left  hand  bank  as  I  remember  well  - 
and  disappeared  among  large  trees  such  as  do  not  grow 
in  the  Valley  of  the  Lost  Souls." 

But,  like  Torres,  the  rest  of  them  recoiled  from  thought 
of  the  dark  plunge  through  the  living  rock. 

"  These  are  the  bones  of  animals  and  of  men,"  the 
Queen  warned,  "  who  were  daunted  by  the  way  of  the 


270  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

water  and  who  strove  to  gain  the  sun.  Men  there  are 
there  —  behold !  Or  at  least  what  remains  of  them  for  a 
space,  the  bones,  ere,  in  time,  the  bones,  too,  pass  into 
nothingness." 

"  Even  so,"  said  Francis,  "  I  suddenly  discover  a  press 
ing  need  to  look  into  the  eye  of  the  sun.  Do  the  rest  of 
you  remain  here  while  I  investigate." 

Drawing  his  automatic,  the  water-tightness  of  the  cart 
ridges  a  guarantee,  he  crawled  under  the  web.  The  mo 
ment  he  had  disappeared  from  view  beyond  the  web,  they 
heard  him  begin  to  shoot.  Next,  they  saw  him  retreating 
backward,  still  shooting.  And,  next,  falling  upon  him, 
two  yards  across  from  black-haired  leg-tip  to  black-haired 
leg-tip,  the  denizen  of  the  web,  a  monstrous  spider,  still 
wriggling  with  departing  life,  shot  through  and  through 
again  and  again.  The  solid  center  of  its  body,  from 
which  the  legs  radiated,  was  the  size  of  a  normal  waste^ 
basket,  and  the  substantial  density  of  it  crunched  audibly 
as  it  struck  on  Francis'  shoulders  and  back,  rebounded, 
the  hairy  legs  still  helplessly  quivering,  and  pitched  down 
into  the  wave-crisping  water.  All  four  pair  of  eyes 
watched  the  corpse  of  it  plunge  against  the  wall  of  rocks, 
suck  down,  and  disappear. 

"  Where  there's  one,  there  are  two,"  said  Henry,  look 
ing  dubiously  up  toward  the  daylight. 

"  It  is  the  only  way,"  said  the  Queen.  "  Come,  my 
husband,  each  in  the  other's  arms  let  us  win  through  the 
darkness  to  the  sun-bright  world.  Remember,  I  have 
never  seen  it,  and  soon,  with  you,  shall  I  for  the  first 
time  see  it." 

Her  arms  open  in  invitation,  Francis  could  not  decline. 

"  It's  a  hole  in  the  sheer  wall  of  a  precipice  a  thousand 
feet  deep,"  he  explained  to  the  others  the  glimpse  he  had 
caught  from  beyond  the  spider  web,  as  he  clasped  the 
Queen  in  his  arms  and  leaped  off. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2/1 

Henry  had  gathered  Leoncia  to  him  and  was  about  to 
leap,  when  she  stopped  him. 

"Why  did  you  accept  Francis'  sacrifice?"  she  de 
manded. 

"  Because  .  .  ."  He  paused  and  looked  at  her  won- 
deringly. 

"  Because  I  wanted  you,"  he  completed.  "  Because  I 
was  engaged  to  you  as  well,  while  Francis  was  unattached. 
Besides,  if  I'm  not  greatly  mistaken,  Francis  appears  to 
be  a  pretty  well  satisfied  bridegroom." 

"  No,"  she  shook  her  head  emphatically.  "  He  has  a 
chivalrous  spirit,  and  he  is  acting  his  part  in  order  not  to 
hurt  her  feelings." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Remember,  before  the  altar,  at 
the  Long  House,  when  I  said  I  was  going  to  ask  the 
Queen  to  marry  me,  that  he  bragged  she  wouldn't  marry 
me  if  I  did  ask?  Well,  the  conclusion's  pretty  obvious 
that  he  wanted  her  himself.  And  why  shouldn't  he? 
He's  a  bachelor.  And  she's  some  nice  woman  herself." 

But  Leoncia  scarcely  heard.  With  a  quick  movement, 
leaning  back  in  his  arms  away  from  him  so  that  she  could 
look  him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  she  demanded : 

"  How  do  you  love  me?  Do  you  love  me  madly  ?  Do 
you  love  me  badly  madly?  Do  I  mean  that  to  you,  and 
more,  and  more,  and  more?  " 

He  could  only  look  his  bewilderment. 

"  Do  you?  —  do  you?  "  she  urged  passionately. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  he  made  slow  answer,  "  but  it  would 
never  have  entered  my  head  to  describe  it  that  way.  Why, 
you're  the  one  woman  for  me.  Rather  would  I  describe 
it  as  loving  you  deeply,  and  greatly,  and  enduringly. 
Why,  you  seem  so  much  a  part  of  me  that  I  feel  almost 
as  if  I  had  always  known  you.  It  was  that  way  from  the 
first." 


272  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  She  is  an  abominable  woman!  "  Leoncia  broke  forth 
irrelevantly.  "  I  hated  her  from  the  first." 

"  My !  What  a  spitfire !  I  hate  to  think  how  much 
you  would  have  hated  her  had  I  married  her  instead  of 
Francis." 

"  We'd  better  follow  them,"  she  put  an  end  to  the 
discussion. 

And  Henry,  very  much  bepuzzled,  clasped  her  tightly 
and  leaped  off  into  the  white  turmoil  of  water. 

On  the  bank  of  the  Gualaca  River  sat  two  Indian  girls 
fishing.  Just  up-stream  from  them  arose  the  precipitous 
cliff  of  one  of  the  buttresses  of  the  lofty  mountains.  The 
main  stream  flowed  past  in  chocolate-colored  spate;  but, 
directly  beneath  them,  where  they  fished,  was  a  quiet 
eddy.  No  less  quiet  was  the  fishing.  No  bites  jerked 
their  rods  in  token  that  the  bait  was  enticing.  One  of 
them,  Nicoya,  yawned,  ate  a  banana,  yawned  again,  and 
held  the  skin  she  was  about  to  cast  aside  suspended  in  her 
hand. 

"  We  have  been  very  quiet,  Concordia,"  she  observed  to 
her  companion,  "  and  it  has  won  us  no  fish.  Now  shall 
I  make  a  noise  and  a  splash.  Since  they  say  '  what  goes 
up  must  come  down/  why  should  not  something  come  up 
after  something  has  gone  down?  I  am  going  to  try. 
There!" 

She  threw  the  banana  peel  into  the  water  and  lazily 
watched  the  point  where  it  had  struck. 

"If  anything  comes  up  I  hope  it  will  be  big,"  Concordia 
murmured  with  equal  laziness. 

And  upon  their  astonished  gaze,  even  as  they  looked, 
arose  up  out  of  the  brown  depths  a  great  white  hound. 
They  jerked  their  poles  up  and  behind  them  on  the  bank, 
threw  their  arms  about  each  other,  and  watched  the  hound 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2/3 

gain  the  shore  at  the  lower  end  of  the  eddy,  climb  the 
sloping  bank,  pause  to  shake  himself,  and  then  disappear 
among  the  trees. 

Nicoyo  and  Concordia  giggled. 

"  Try  it  again,"  Concordia  urged. 

"  No ;  you  this  time.  And  see  what  you  can  bring  up." 
Quite  unbelieving,  Concordia  tossed  in  a  clod  of  earth. 
And  almost  immediately  a  helmeted  head  arose  on  the 
flood.  Clutching  each  other  very  tightly,  they  watched 
the  man  under  the  helmet  gain  the  shore  where  the  hound 
had  landed  and  disappear  into  the  forest. 

Again  the  two  Indian  girls  giggled ;  but  this  time,  urge 
as  they  would,  neither  could  raise  the  courage  to  throw 
anything  into  the  water. 

Some  time  later,  still  giggling  over  the  strange  occur 
rences,  they  were  espied  by  two  young  Indian  men,  who 
were  hugging  the  bank  as  they  paddled  their  canoe  ,up 
against  the  stream. 

"  What  makes  you  laugh?  "  one  of  them  greeted. 

"  We  have  been  seeing  things,"  Nicoya  gurgled  down 
to  them. 

"  Then  you  have  been  drinking  pulque,"  the  young 
man  charged. 

Both  girls  shook  their  heads,  and  Concordia  said : 

"  We  don't  have  to  drink  to  see  things.  First,  when 
Nicoya  threw  in  a  banana  skin,  we  saw  a  dog  come  up 
out  of  the  water  —  a  white  dog  that  was  as  big  as  a  tiger 
of  the  mountains  — 

"  And  when  Concordia  threw  in  a  clod,"  the  other  girl 
took  up  the  tale,  "  up  came  a  man  with  a  head  of  iron.  It 
is  magic.  Concordia  and  I  can  work  magic." 

"  Jose,"  one  of  the  Indians  addressed  his  mate,  "  this 
merits  a  drink." 

And  each,  in  turn,  while  the  other  with  his  paddle  held 


274  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

the  canoe  in  place,  took  a  swig  from  a  square-faced  Hol 
land  gin  bottle  part  full  of  pulque. 

"  No,"  said  Jose,  when  the  girls  had  begged  him  for 
a  drink.  "  One  drink  of  pulque  and  you  might  see  more 
white  dogs  as  big  as  tigers  or  more  iron-headed  men." 

"All -right,"  Nicoya  accepted  the  rebuff.  "Then  do 
you  throw  in  your  pulque  bottle  and  see  what  you  will 
see.  We  drew  a  dog  and  a  man.  Your  prize  may  be  the 
devil." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  devil,"  said  Jose,  taking  an 
other  drain  at  the  bottle.  "  The  pulque  is  a  true  fire  of 
bravery.  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  the  devil." 

He  passed  the  bottle  to  his  companion  with  a  gesture 
to  finish  it. 

"  Now  throw  it  into  the  water,"  Jose  commanded. 

The  empty  bottle  struck  with  a  forceful  splash,  and 
the  evoking  was  realized  with  startling  immediacy,  for 
up  to  the  surface  floated  the  monstrous,  hairy  body  of  the 
slain  spider.  Which  was  too  much  for  ordinary  Indian 
flesh  and  blood.  So  suddenly  did  both  young  men  recoil 
from  the  sight  that  they  capsized  the  canoe.  When  their 
heads  emerged  from  the  water  they  struck  out  for  the 
swift  current  and  were  swiftly  borne  away  down  the 
stream,  followed  more  slowly  by  the  swamped  canoe. 

Nicoya  and  Concordia  had  been  too  frightened  to 
giggle.  They  held  on  to  each  other  and  waited,  watching 
the  magic  water  and  out  of  the  tails  of  their  eyes  observ 
ing  the  frightened  young  men  capture  the  canoe,  tow  it 
to  shore,  and  run  out  and  hide  on  the  bank. 

The  afternoon  sun  was  getting  low  in  the  sky  ere  the 
girls  summoned  courage  again  to  evoke  the  magic  water. 
Only  after  much  discussion  did  they  agree  both  to  fling  in 
clods  of  earth  at  the  same  time.  And  up  arose  a  man 
and  a  woman  —  Francis  and  the  Queen.  The  girls  fell 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  2/5 

over  backward  into  the  bushes,  and  were  themselves  un 
observed  as  they  watched  Francis  swim  with  the  Queen 
to  shore. 

"  It  may  just  have  happened  —  all  these  things  may 
just  have  happened  at  the  very  times  we  threw  things 
into  the  water/'  Nicoya  whispered  to  Concordia  five 
minutes  later. 

11  But  when  we  threw  one  thing  in,  only  one  came  up," 
Concordia  argued.  "  And  when  we  threw  two,  two  came 
up." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Nicoya.  "  Let  us  now  prove  it. 
Let  us  try  again,  both  of  us.  If  nothing  comes  up, 
then  have  we  no  power  of  magic." 

Together  they  threw  in  clods,  and  up  rose  another  man 
and  woman.  But  this  pair,  Henry  and  Leoncia,  could 
swim,  and  they  swam  side  by  side  to  the  natural  landing 
place,  and,  like  the  rest  that  had  preceded  them,  passed 
on  out  of  sight  among  the  trees. 

Long  the  two  Indian  girls  lingered.  For  they  had 
agreed  to  throw  nothing,  and,  if  something  arose,  then 
would  coincidence  be  proved.  But  if  nothing  arose,  be 
cause  nothing  further  was  by  them  evoked,  they  could 
only  conclude  that,  the  magic  was  truly  theirs.  They  lay 
hidden  and  watched  the  water  until  darkness  hid  it  from 
their  eyes ;  and,  slowly  and  soberly,  they  took  the  trail 
back  to  their  village,  overcome  by  an  awareness  of  having 
been  blessed  by  the  gods. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

NOT  until  the  day  following  his  escape  from  the  sub 
terranean  river,  did  Torres  reach  San  Antonio.  He  ar 
rived  on  foot,  jaded  and  dirty,  a  small  Indian  boy  at  his 
heels  carrying  the  helmet  of  Da  Vasco.  For  Torres 
wanted  to  show  the  helmet  to  the  Jefe  and  the  Judge  in 
evidence  of  the  narrative  of  strange  adventures  he 
chuckled  to  tell  them. 

First  on  the  main  street  he  encountered  the  Jefe,  who 
cried  out  loudly  at  his  appearance. 

"Is  it  truly  you,  Senor  Torres?"  The  Jefe  crossed 
himself  solemnly  ere  he  shook  hands. 

The  solid  flesh,  and,  even  more  so,  the  dirt  and  grit 
of  the  other's  hand,  convinced  the  Jefe  of  reality  and 
substance.  Whereupon  the  Jefe  became  wrathful. 

"And  here  I've  been  looking  upon  you  as  dead!  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  That  Caroo  dog  of  a  Jose  Mancheno !  He 
came  back  and  reported  you  dead  —  dead  and  buried  un 
til  the  Day  of  Judgment  in  the  heart  of  the  Maya  Moun 
tain." 

"  He  is  a  fool,  and  I  am  possibly  the  richest  man  in 
Panama,"  Torres  replied  grandiosely.  "  At  least,  like  the 
ancient  and  heroic  conquistadores,  I  have  braved  all  dan 
gers  and  penetrated  to  the  treasure.  I  have  seen  it. 
Nay-" 

Torres'  hand  had  been  sunk  into  his  trousers'  pocket 
to  bring  forth  the  filched  gems  of  the  Lady  Who  Dreams ; 
but  he  withdrew  the  hand  empty.  Too  many  curious  eyes 
of  the  street  were  already  centered  upon  him  and  the 
draggled  figure  he  cut. 

"  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,"  he  told  the  Jefe,  "  that 

276 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  277 

cannot  well  be  said  now.  I  have  knocked  on  the  doors 
of  the  dead  and  worn  the  shrouds  of  corpses.  And  I  have 
consorted  with  men  four  centuries  dead  but  who  were  not 
dust,  and  I  have  beheld  them  drown  in*  the  second  death. 
I  have  gone  through  mountains,  as  well  as  over  them, 
and  broken  bread  with  lost  souls,  and  gazed  into  the 
Mirror  of  the  World.  All  of  which  I  shall  tell  you,  my 
best  friend,  and  the  honorable  Judge,  in  due  time;  for 
I  shall  make  you  rich  along  with  me." 

"  Have  you  looked  upon  the  pulque  when  it  was 
sour?  "  the  Jefe  quipped  incredulously. 

11 1  have  not  had  drink  stronger  than  water  since  I  last 
departed  from  San  Antonio,"  was  the  reply.  "  And  I 
shall  go  now  to  my  house  and  drink  a  long,  long  drink, 
and  after  that  I  shall  bathe  the  filth  from  me,  and  put 
on  garments  whole  and  decent." 

Not  immediately,  as  he  proceeded,  did  Torres  gain  his 
house.  A  ragged  urchin  exclaimed  out  at  sight  of  him, 
ran  up  to  him,  and  handed  him  an  envelope  that  he  knew 
familiarly  to  be  from  the  local  government  wireless,  and 
that  he  was  certain  had  been  sent  him  by  Regan. 

You  are  doing  well.  Imperative  you  keep  party  away  from 
New  York  for  three  weeks  more.  Fifty  thousand  if  you  suc 
ceed. 

Borrowing  a  pencil  from  the  boy,  Torres  wrote  a  reply 
on  the  back  of  the  envelope : 

Send  the  money.  Party  will  never  come  back  from  mountains 
where  he  is  lost. 

Two  other  occurrences  delayed  Torres'  long  drink  and 
bath.  Just  as  he  was  entering  the  jewelry  store  of  old 
Rodriguez  Fernandez,  he  was  intercepted  by  the  old  Maya 
priest  with  whom  he  had  last  parted  in  the  Maya  moun 
tain.  He  recoiled  as  from  an  apparition,  for  sure  he  was 


278  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

that  the  old  man  was  drowned  in  the  Room  of  the  Gods. 
Like  the  Jefe  at  sight  of  Torres,  so  Torres,  at  sight  of 
the  priest,  drew  back  in  startled  surprise. 

"  Go  away,"  he  said.  "  Depart,  restless  old  man.  You 
are  a  spirit.  Thy  body  lies  drowned  and  horrible  in  the 
heart  of  the  mountain.  You  are  an  appearance,  a  ghost. 
Go  away,  nothing  corporeal  resides  in  this  illusion  of 
yon,  else  would  I  strike  you.  You  are  a  ghost.  Depart 
at  once.  I  should  not  like  to  strike  a  ghost." 

But  the  ghost  seized  his  hands  and  clung  to  them  with 
such  beseeching  corporality  as  to  unconvince  him. 

"  Money,"  the  ancient  one  babbled.  "  Let  me  have 
money.  Lend  me  money.  I  will  repay  —  I  who  know 
the  secrets  of  the  Maya  treasure.  My  son  is  lost  in  the 
mountain  with  the  treasure.  The  Gringos  also  are  lost  in 
the  mountain.  Help  me  to  rescue  my  son.  With  him 
alone  will  I  be  satisfied,  while  the  treasure  shall  all  be 
yours.  But  we  must  take  men,  and  much  of  the  white 
man's  wonderful  powder,  and  tear  a  hole  out  of  the  moun 
tain  so  that  the  water  will  run  away.  He  is  not  drowned. 
He  is  a  prisoner  of  the  water  in  the  room  where  stand 
the  jewel-eyed  Chia  and  Hzatzl.  Their  eyes  of  green  and 
red  alone  will  pay  for  all  the  wonderful  powder  in  the 
world.  So  let  me  have  the  money  with  which  to  buy  the 
wonderful  powder." 

But  Alvarez  Torres  was  a  strangely  constituted  man. 
Some  warp  or  slant  or  idiosyncrasy  of  his  nature  always 
raised  insuperable  obstacles  to  his  parting  with  money 
when  such  parting  was  avoidable.  And  the  richer  he 
got  the  more  positively  this  idiosyncrasy  asserted  itself. 

"Money!"  he  asserted  harshly,  as  he  thrust  the  old 
priest  aside  and  pulled  open  the  door  of  Fernandez's 
store.  "  Is  it  I  who  should  have  money?  —  I,  who  am 
all  rags  and  tatters  as  a  beggar?  I  have  no  money  for 
myself,  much  less  for  you,  old  man.  Besides,  it  was 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  279 

you,  and  not  I,  who  led  your  son  to  the  Maya  mountain. 
On  your  head  be  it,  not  on  mine,  the  death  of  your  son 
who  fell  into  the  pit  under  the  feet  of  Chia  that  was 
digged  by  your  ancestors  and  not  by  mine." 

Again  the  ancient  one  clutched  at  him  and  yammered 
for  money  with  which  to  buy  dynamite.  So  roughly  did 
Torres  thrust  him  aside  that  his  old  legs  failed  to  perform 
their  wonted  duty  and  he  fell  upon  the  flagstones. 

The  shop  of  Rodriguez  Fernandez  was  small  and  dirty, 
and  contained  scarcely  more  than  a  small  and  dirty  show 
case  that  rested  upon  an  equally  small  and  dirty  counter. 
The  place  was  grimy  with  the  undusted  and  unswept  filth 
of  a  generation.  Lizards  and  cockroaches  crawled  along 
the  walls.  Spiders  webbed  in  every  corner,  and  Torres 
saw,  crossing  the  ceiling  above,  what  made  him  step 
hastily  to  the  side.  It  was  a  seven-inch  centipede  which 
he  did  not  care  to  have  fall  casually  upon  his  head  or 
down  his  back  between  shirt  and  skin.  And,  when  he 
appeared  crawling  out  like  a  huge  spider  himself  from 
some  inner  den  of  an  unventilated  cubicle,  Fernandez 
looked  like  an  Elizabethan  stage-representation  of  Shy- 
lock —  withal  he  was  a  dirtier  Shylock  than  even  the 
Elizabethan  stage  could  have  stomached. 

The  jeweler  fawned  to  Torres  and  in  a  cracked  falsetto 
humbled  himself  even  beneath  the  dirt  of  his  shop. 
Torres  pulled  from  his  pocket  a  haphazard  dozen  or  more 
of  the  gems  filched  from  the  Queen's  chest,  selected  the 
smallest,  and,  without  a  word,  while  at  the  same  time  re 
turning  the  rest  to  his  pocket,  passed  it  over  to  the  jeweler. 

"  I  am  a  poor  man,"  he  cackled,  the  while  Torres  could 
not  fail  to  see  how  keenly  he  scrutinized  the  gem. 

He  dropped  it  on  the  top  of  the  show  case  as  of  little 
worth,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  his  customer.  But 
Torres  waited  in  a  silence  which  he  knew  would  compel 
the  garrulity  of  covetous  age  to  utterance. 


280 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 


"  Do  I  understand  that  the  honorable  Senor  Torres 
seeks  advice  about  the  quality  of  the  stone?"  the  old 
jeweler  finally  quavered. 

Torres  did  no  more  than  nod  curtly. 

"  It  is  a  natural  gem.  It  is  small.  It,  as  you  can  see 
for  yourself,  is  not  perfect.  And  it  is  clear  that  much 
of  it  will  be  lost  in  the  cutting." 

"  How  much  is  it  worth  ?  "  Torres  demanded  with  im 
patient  bluntness. 

"  I  am  a  poor  man,"  Fernandez  reiterated. 

"  I  have  not  asked  you  to  buy  it,  old  fool.  But  now 
that  you  bring  the  matter  up,  how  much  will  you  give 
for  it?" 

"  As  I  was  saying,  craving  your  patience,  honorable 
sefior,  as  I  was  saying,  I  am  a  very  poor  man.  There 
are  days  when  I  cannot  spend  ten  centavos  for  a  morsel 
of  spoiled  fish.  There  are  days  when  I  cannot  afford  a 
sip  of  the  cheap  red  wine  I  learned  was  tonic  to  my  sys 
tem  when  I  was  a  lad,  far  from  Barcelona,  serving  my 
apprenticeship  in  Italy.  I  am  so  very  poor  that  I  do  not 
buy  costly  pretties  — 

"  Not  to  sell  again  at  a  profit?  "  Torres  cut  in. 

"If  I  am  sure  of  my  profit,"  the  old  man  cackled. 
"  Yes,  then  will  I  buy ;  but,  being  poor,  I  cannot  pay 
more  than  little."  He  picked  up  the  gem  and  studied  it 
long  and  carefully.  "  I  \yould  give,"  he  began  hesi 
tatingly,  "  I  would  give  —  but,  please,  honorable  sefior, 
know  that  I  am  a  very  poor  man.  This  day  only  a  spoon 
ful  of  onion  soup,  with  my  morning  coffee  and  a  mouth 
ful  of  crust,  passed  my  lips - 

"  In  God's  name,  old  fool,  what  will  you  give?  "  Torres 
thundered. 

"  Five  hundred  dollars  —  but  I  doubt  the  profit  that 
will  remain  to  me." 
"Gold?" 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  28l 

"  Mex./'  came  the  reply,  which  cut  the  offer  in  half 
and  which  Torres  knew  was  a  lie.  "  Of  course,  Mex., 
only  Mex.,  all  our  transactions  are  in  Mex." 

Despite  his  elation  at  so  large  a  price  for  so  small  a 
gem,  Torres  play-acted  impatience  as  he  reached  to  take 
back  the  gem.  But  the  old  man  jerked  his  hand  away, 
loath  to  let  go  of  the  bargain  it  contained. 

"  We  are  old  friends/'  he  cackled  shrilly.  "  I  first  saw 
you,  when,  a  boy,  you  came  to  San  Antonio  from  Boca 
del  Toros.  And,  as  between  old  friends,  we  will  say  the 
sum  is  gold." 

And  Torres  caught  a  sure  but  vague  glimpse  of  the 
enormousness,  as  well  as  genuineness,  of  the  Queen's 
treasure,  which  at  some  remote  time  the  Lost  Souls  had 
ravished  from  its  hiding  place  in  the  Maya  Mountain. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Torres,  with  a  quick,  cavalier  ac 
tion  recovering  the  stone.  "  It  belongs  to  a  friend  of 
mine.  He  wanted  to  borrow  money  from  me  on  it.  I 
can  now  lend  him  up  to  five  hundred  gold  on  it,  thanks 
to  your  information.  And  I  shall  be  grateful  to  buy  for 
you,  the  next  time  we  meet  in  the  pulqueria,  a  drink  - 
yes,  as  many  drinks  as  you  can  care  to  carry  —  of  the 
thin,  red,  tonic  wine." 

And  as  Torres  passed  out  of  the  shop,  not  in  any  way 
attempting  to  hide  the  scorn  and  contempt  he  felt  for  the 
fool  he  had  made  of  the  jeweler,  he  knew  elation  in  that 
Fernandez,  the  Spanish  fox,  must  have  cut  his  estimate 
of  the  gem's  value  fully  in  half  when  he  uttered  it. 

In  the  meanwhile,  descending  the  Gualaca  River  by 
canoe,  Leoncia,  the  Queen,  and  the  two  Morgans  had 
made  better  time  than  Torres  to  the  coast.  But  ere  their 
arrival  and  briefly  pending  it,  a  matter  of  moment  that 
was  not  appreciated  at  the  time,  had  occurred  at  the  Solano 
hacienda.  Climbing  the  winding  pathway  to  the  hacienda, 


282  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

accompanied  by  a  decrepit  old  crone  whose  black  shawl 
over  head  and  shoulders  could  not  quite  hide  the  lean  and 
withered  face  of  blasted  volcanic  fire,  came  as  strange  a 
caller  as  the  hacienda  had  ever  received. 

He  was  a  Chinaman,  middle-aged  and  fat,  whose  moon- 
face  beamed  the  beneficent  good  nature  that  seems  usual 
with  fat  persons.  By  name  Yi  Poon,  meaning  "  the 
Cream  of  the  Custard  Apple,"  his  manners  were  as  softly 
and  richly  oily  as  his  name.  To  the  old  crone,  who  tot 
tered  beside  him  and  was  half -supported  by  him,  he  was 
the  quintessence  of  gentleness  and  consideration.  When 
she  faltered  from  sheer  physical  weakness  and  would  have 
fallen,  he  paused  and  gave  her  chance  to  gain  strength 
and  breath.  Thrice,  at  such  times,  on  the  climb  to  the 
hacienda,  he  fed  her  a  spoonful  of  French  brandy  from  a 
screw-cap  pocket  flask. 

Seating  the  old  woman  in  a  selected,  shady  corner  of 
the  piazza,  Yi  Poon  boldly  knocked  for  admittance  at  the 
front  door.  To  him,  in  his  business,  back-stairs  was  the 
accustomed  way ;  but  his  business  and  his  wit  had  taught 
him  the  times  when  front  entrances  were  imperative. 

The  Indian  maid  who  answered  his  knock,  took  his 
message  into  the  living  room  where  sat  the  disconsolate 
Enrico  Solano  among  his  sons  —  disconsolate  at  the  re 
port  Ricardo  had  brought  in  of  the  loss  of  Leoncia  in  the 
Maya  mountain.  The  Indian  maid  returned  to  the  door. 
The  Senor  Solano  was  indisposed  and  would  see  nobody, 
was  her  report,  humbly  delivered,  even  though  the  recip 
ient  was  a  Chinese. 

"Huh!"  observed  Yi  Poon,  with  braggart  confidence 
for  the  purpose  of  awing  the  maid  to  carrying  a  second 
message.  "  I  am  no  coolie.  I  am  smart  Chinaman.  I 
go  to  school  plenty  much.  I  speak  Spanish.  I  speak 
English.  I  write  Spanish.  I  write  English.  See  —  I 
write  now  in  Spanish  for  the  Senor  Solano.  You  cannot 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  283 

write,  so  you  cannot  read  what  I  write.  I  write  that  I 
am  Yi  Poon.  I  belong  Colon.  I  come  this  place  to  see 
Seiior  Solano.  Big  business.  Much  important.  Very 
secret.  I  write  all  this  here  on  paper  which  you  cannot 
read." 

But  he  did  not  say  that  he  had  further  written : 

"  The  Senorita  Solano.     I  have  great  secret." 

It  was  Alesandro,  the  eldest  of  the  tall  sons  of  Solano^ 
who  evidently  had  received  the  note,  for  he  came  bounding 
to  the  door,  far  outstripping  the  returning  maid. 

"  Tell  me  your  business !  "  he  almost  shouted  at  the  fat 
Chinese.  "  What  is  it  ?  Quick !  " 

"  Very  good  business,"  was  the  reply,  Yi  Poon  noting 
the  other's  excitement  with  satisfaction.  "  I  make  much 
money.  I  buy  —  what  you  call  —  secrets.  I  sell  secrets. 
Very  nice  business." 

"What  do  you  know  about  the  Senorita  Solano?" 
Alesandro  shouted,  gripping  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Everything.     Very  important  information  — 

But  Alesandro  could  no  longer  control  himself.  He 
almost  hurled  the  Chinaman  into  the  house,  and,  not 
relaxing  his  grip,  rushed  him  on  into  the  living  room  and 
up  to  Enrico. 

"  He  has  news  of  Leoncia !  "  Alesandro  shouted. 

"Where  is  she?"  Enrico  and  his  sons  shouted  in 
chorus. 

Hah!  —  was  Yi  Poon's  thought.  Such  excitement,  al 
though  it  augured  well  for  his  business,  was  rather  excit 
ing  for  him  as  well. 

Mistaking  his  busy  thinking  for  fright,  Enrico  stilled 
his  sons  back  with  an  upraised  hand,  and  addressed  the 
visitor  quietly. 

"  Where  is  she?  "  Enrico  asked. 

Hah !  —  thought  Yi  Poon.  The  senorita  was  lost. 
That  was  a  new  secret.  It  might  be  worth  something 


284  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

some  day,  or  any  day.  A  nice  girl,  of  high  family  and 
wealth  such  as  the  Solanos,  lost  in  a  Latin- American  coun 
try,  was  information  well  worth  possessing.  Some  day 
she  might  be  married  —  there  was  that  gossip  he  had 
heard  in  Colon  —  and  some  later  day  she  might  have 
trouble  with  her  husband  or  her  husband  have  trouble 
with  her  —  at  which  time,  she  or  her  husband,  it  mat 
tered  not  which,  might  be  eager  to  pay  high  for  the  secret. 
"  This  Senorita  Leoncia,"  he  said,  finally,  with  sleek 
suavity.  "  She  is  not  your  girl.  She  has  other  papa  and 


mamma." 


But  Enrico's  present  grief  at  her  loss  was  too  great  to 
permit  startlement  at  this  explicit  statement  of  an  old 
secret. 

"  Yes,"  he  nodded.  "  Though  it  is  not  known  outside 
my  family,  I  adopted  her  when  she  was  a  baby.  It  is 
strange  that  you  should  know  this.  But  I  am  not  inter 
ested  in  having  you  tell  me  what  I  have  long  since  known. 
What  I  want  to  know  now  is :  Where  is  she  now?  " 

Yi  Poon  gravely  and  sympathetically  shook  his  head. 

"  That  is  different  secret,"  he  explained.  "  Maybe  I 
find  that  secret.  Then  I  sell  it  to  you.  But  I  have  old 
secret.  You  do  not  know  the  name  of  the  Senorita 
Leoncia's  papa  and  mamma.  I  know." 

And  old  Enrico  Solano  could  not  hide  his  interest  at 
the  temptation  of  such  information. 

"  Speak,"  he  commanded.  "  Name  the  names,  and 
prove  them,  and  I  shall  reward." 

"  No,"  Yi  Poon  shook  his  head.  "  Very  poor  busi 
ness.  I  no  do  business  that  way.  You  pay  me  I  tell  you. 
My  secrets  good  secrets.  I  prove  my  secrets.  You  give 
me  five  hundred  pesos  and  big  expenses  from  Colon  to 
San  Antonio  and  back  to  Colon  and  I  tell  you  name  of 
papa  and  mamma." 

Enrico  Solano  bowed  acquiescence,  and  was  just  in  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  285 

act  of  ordering  Alesandro  to  go  and  fetch  the  money, 
when  the  quiet,  spirit-subdued  Indian  maid  created  a 
diversion.  Running  into  the  room  and  up  to  Enrico  as 
they  had  never  seen  her  run  before,  she  wrung  her  hands 
and  wept  so  incoherently  that  they  knew  her  paroxysm 
was  of  joy,  not  of  sadness. 

"  The  Senorita!"  she  was  finally  able  to  whisper 
hoarsely,  as  she  indicated  the  side  piazza  with  a  nod  of 
head  and  glance  of  eyes.  '  The  Senorita!  " 

And  Yi  Poon  and  his  secret  were  forgotten.  Enrico 
and  his  sons  streamed  out  to  the  side  piazza  to  behold 
Leoncia  and  the  Queen  and  the  two  Morgans,  dropping 
dust-covered  off  the  backs  of  riding  mules  recognizable 
as  from  the  pastures  of  the  mouth  of  the  Gualaca  River. 
At  the  same  time  two  Indian  men-servants,  summoned  by 
the  maid,  cleared  the  house  and  grounds  of  the  fat  China 
man  and  his  old  crone  of  a  companion. 

"  Come  some  other  time,"  they  told  him.  "  Just  now 
the  Sefior  Solano  is  very  importantly  busy." 

"  Sure,  I  come  some  other  time,"  Yi  Poon  assured  them 
pleasantly,  without  resentment  and  without  betrayal  of  the 
disappointment  that  was  his  at  his  deal  interrupted  just 
ere  the  money  was  paid  into  his  hand. 

But  he  departed  reluctantly.  The  place  was  good  for 
his  business.  It  was  sprouting  secrets.  Never  was  there 
a  riper  harvest  in  Canaan  out  of  which,  sickle  in  hand,  a 
husbandman  was  driven.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  zealous 
Indian  attendants,  Yi  Poon  would  have  darted  around 
the  corner  of  the  hacienda  to  note  the  newcomers.  As  it 
was,  half  way  down  the  hill,  finding  the  weight  of  the 
crone  too  fatiguing,  he  put  into  her  the  life  and  ability  to 
carry  her  own  weight  a  little  farther  by  feeding  her  a 
double  teaspoonful  of  brandy  from  his  screw-top  flask. 

Enrico  swept  Leoncia  off  her  mule  ere  she  could  dis 
mount,  so  passionately  eager  was  he  to  fold  her  in  his 


286  HEARTS    OF  'THREE 

arms.  For  several  minutes  ensued  naught  but  noisy  Latin 
affection  as  her  brothers  all  strove  to  greet  and  embrace 
her  at  once.  When  they  recollected  themselves,  Francis 
had  already  helped  the  Lady  Who  Dreams  from  her 
mount,  and  beside  her,  her  hand  in  his,  was  waiting  recog 
nition. 

'  This  is  my  wife,"  Francis  told  Enrico.  "  I  went 
into  the  Cordilleras  after  treasure,  and  behold  what  I 
found.  Was  there  ever  better  fortune?  " 

"  And  she  sacrificed  a  great  treasure  herself,"  Leoncia 
murmured  bravely. 

"  She  was  queen  of  a  little  kingdom,"  Francis  added 
with  a  grateful  and  admiring  flash  of  eyes  to  Leoncia, 
who  quickly  added : 

"  And  she  saved  all  our  lives  but  sacrificed  her  little 
kingdom  in  so  doing." 

And  Leoncia,  in  an  exaltation  of  generousness,  put  her 
arm  around  the  Queen's  waist,  took  her  away  from 
Franpis,  and  led  the  way  into  the  hacienda. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  all  the  magnificence  of  medieval  Spanish  and  New 
World  costume  such  as  was  still  affected  by  certain  of 
the  great  haciendados  of  Panama,  Torres  rode  along  the 
beach-road  to  the  home  of  the  Solanos.  Running  with 
him,  at  so  easy  a  lope  that  it  promised  an  extension  that 
would  out-speed  the  best  of  Torres'  steed,  was  the  great 
white  hound  that  had  followed  him  down  the  subterranean 
river.  As  Torres  turned  to  take  the  winding  road  up 
the  hill  to  the  hacienda,  he  passed  Yi  Poon,  who  had 
paused  to  let  the  old  crone  gather  strength.  He  merely 
noticed  the  strange  couple  as  dirt  of  the  common  people. 
The  hauteur  that  he  put  on  with  his  magnificence  of  ap 
parel  forbade  that  he  should  betray  any  interest  further 
than  an  unseeing  glance. 

But  him  Yi  Poon  noted  with  slant  Oriental  eyes  that 
missed  no  detail.  And  Yi  Poon  thought :  He  looks  very 
rich.  He  is  a  friend  of  the  Solanos.  He  rides  to  the 
house.  He  may  even  be  a  lover  of  the  Seiiorita  Leoncia. 
—  Or  a  worsted  rival  for  her  love.  In  almost  any  case, 
he  might  be  expected  to  buy  the  secret  of  the  Seiiorita 
Leoncia's  birth,  but  he  certainly  looks  rich,  most  rich. 

Inside  the  hacienda,  assembled  in  the  living  room,  were 
the  returned  adventurers  and  all  the  Solanos.  The  Queen, 
taking  her  turn  in  piecing  out  the  narrative  of  all  that  had 
occurred,  with  flashing  eyes  was  denouncing  Torres  for 
his  theft  of  her  jewels  and  describing  his  fall  into  the 
whirlpool  before  the  onslaught  of  the  hound,  when  Leon 
cia,  at  the  window  with  Henry,  uttered  a  sharp  exclama 
tion. 

287 


288  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  Speak  of  the  devil !  "  said  Henry.  "  Here  comes 
Torres  himself." 

"  Me  first !  "  Francis  cried,  doubling  his  fist  and  flexing 
his  biceps  significantly. 

"  No,"  decreed  Leoncia.  "  He  is  a  wonderful  liar. 
He  is  a  very  wonderful  liar,  as  we've  all  found  out.  Let 
us  have  some  fun.  He  is  dismounting  now.  Let  the 
four  of  us  disappear.  — Father!"  With  a  wave  of 
hand  she  indicated  Enrico  and  all  his  sons.  "  You  will 
sit  around  desolated  over  the  loss  of  me.  That  scoundrel 
Torres  will  enter.  You  will  be  thirsty  for  information. 
He  will  tell  you  no  one  can  guess  what  astounding  lies 
about  us.  As  for  us,  we'll  hide  behind  the  screen  there  — • 
Come!  All  of  you!  " 

And,  catching  the  Queen  by  the  hand  and  leading  the 
way,  with  her  eyes  she  commanded  Francis  and  Henry  to 
follow  to  the  hiding  place. 

And  Torres  entered  upon  a  scene  of  sorrow  which  had 
been  so  recently  real  that  Enrico  and  his  sons  had  no 
difficulty  in  acting  it.  Enrico  started  up  from  his  chair  in 
eagerness  of  welcome  and  sank  weakly  back.  Torres 
caught  the  other's  hand  in  both  his  own  and  manifested 
deep  sympathy  and  could  not  speak  from  emotion. 

"Alas!"  he  finally  managed  heart-brokenly.  "They 
are  dead.  She  is  dead,  your  beautiful  daughter,  Leoncia. 
And  the  two  Gringo  Morgans  are  dead  with  her.  As 
Ricardo,  there,  must  know,  they  died  in  the  heart  of  the 
Maya  mountain. 

"  It  is  the  home  of  mystery,"  he  continued,  after  giving 
due  time  for  the  subsidence  of  the  first  violent  outburst 
of  Enrico's  grief.  "  I  was  with  them  when  they  died. 
Had  they  followed  my  counsel,  they  would  all  have  lived. 
But  not  even  Leoncia  would  listen  to  the  old  friend  of 
the  Solanos.  No,  she  must  listen  to  the  two  Gringos. 
After  incredible  dangers  I  won  my  way  out  through  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  289 

heart  of  the  mountain,  gazed  down  into  the  Valley  of 
Lost  Souls,  and  returned  into  the  mountain  to  find  them 
dying- 

Here,  pursued  by  an  Indian  man-servant,  the  white 
hound  bounded  into  the  room,  trembling  and  whining  in 
excitement  as  with  its  nose  it  quested  the  multitudinous 
scents  of  the  room  that  advertised  his  mistress.  Before 
he  could  follow  up  to  where  the  Queen  hid  behind  the 
screen,  Torres  caught  him  by  the  neck  and  turned  him 
over  to  a  couple  of  the  Indian  house-men  to  hold. 

"  Let  the  brute  remain,"  said  Torres.  "  I  will  tell  you 
about  him  afterward.  But  first  look  at  this."  He  pulled 
forth  a  handful  of  gems.  "  I  knocked  on  the  doors  of 
the  dead,  and,  behold,  the  Maya  treasure  is  mine.  I  am 
the  richest  man  in  Panama,  in  all  the  Americas.  I  shall 
be  powerful  - 

"  But  you  were  with  my  daughter  when  she  died," 
Enrico  interrupted  to  sob.  "  Had  she  no  word  for  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  Torres  sobbed  back,  genuinely  affected  by  the 
death-scene  of  his  fancy.  "  She  died  with  your  name  on 
her  lips.  Her  last  words  were  — 

But,  with  bulging  eyes,  he  failed  to  complete  his  sen 
tence,  for  he  was  watching  Henry  and  Leoncia,  in  the 
most  natural,  casual  manner  in  the  world  stroll  down  the 
room,  immersed  in  quiet  conversation.  Not  noticing 
Torres,  they  crossed  over  to  the  window  still  deep  in  talk. 

"  You  were  telling  me  her  last  words  were  ...  ?  " 
Enrico  prompted. 

"I  —  I  have  lied  to  you,"  Torres  stammered,  while 
he  sparred  for  time  in  which  to  lie  himself  out  of  the 
scrape.  "  I  was  confident  that  they  were  as  good  as  dead 
and  would  never  find  their  way  to  the  world  again.  And 
I  thought  to  soften  the  blow  to  you,  Serior  Solano,  by 
telling  what  I  am  confident  would  be  her  last  words  were 
she  dying.  Also,  this  man,  Francis,  whom  you  have 


2QO  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

elected  to  like.  I  thought  it  better  for  you  to  believe  him 
dead  than  know  him  for  the  Gringo  cur  he  is." 

Here  the  hound  barked  joyfully  at  the  screen,  giv 
ing  the  two  Indians  all  they  could  do  to  hold  him  back. 
But  Torres,  instead  of  suspecting,  blundered  on  to  his 
fate. 

"  In  the  Valley  there  is  a  silly,  weak,  demented  creature 
who  pretends  to  read  the  future  by  magic.  An  alto 
gether  atrocious  and  blood-thirsty  female  is  she.  I  am 
not  denying  that  in  physical  beauty  she  is  beautiful.  For 
beautiful  she  is,  as  a  centipede  is  beautiful  to  those  who 
think  centipedes  are  beautiful.  You  see  what  has  hap 
pened.  She  has  sent  Henry  and  Leoncia  out  of  the  Valley 
by  some  secret  way,  while  Francis  has  elected  to  remain 
there  with  her  in  sin  —  for  sin  it  is,  since  there  exists 
in  the  Valley  no  Catholic  priest  to  make  their  relation 
lawful.  Oh,  not  that  Francis  is  infatuated  with  the  ter 
rible  creature.  But  he  is  infatuated  with  a  paltry  treas 
ure  the  creature  possesses.  And  this  is  the  Gringo  Fran 
cis  you  have  welcomed  into  the  bosom  of  your  family, 
the  slimy  snake  of  a  Gringo  Francis  who  has  even  dared 
to  sully  the  fair  Leoncia  by  casting  upon  her  the  looks  of 
a  lover.  Oh,  I  know  of  what  I  speak.  I  have  seen — " 

A  joyous  outburst  from  the  hound  drowned  his  voice, 
and  he  beheld  Francis  and  the  Queen,  as  deep  in  conversa 
tion  as  the  two  who  had  preceded  them,  walk  down  the 
room.  The  Queen  paused  to  caress  the  hound,  who  stood 
so  tall  against  her  that  his  forepaws,  on  her  shoulders, 
elevated  his  head  above  hers ;  while  Torres  licked  his  sud 
denly  dry  lips  and  vainly  cudgeled  his  brain  for  some 
fresh  lie  with  which  to  extricate  himself  from  the  im 
possible  situation. 

Enrico  Solano  was  the  first  to  break  down  in  mirth. 
All  his  sons  joined  with  him ;  while  tears  of  sheer  delight 
welled  out  of  his  eyes. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  291 

"  I  could  have  married  her  myself,"  Torres  sneered 
malignantly.  "  She  begged  me  on  her  knees." 

"  And  now,"  said  Francis,  "  I  shall  save  you  all  a  dirty 
job  by  throwing  him  out." 

But  Henry,  advancing  swiftly,  asserted: 
"  I  like  dirty  jobs  equally.     And  this  is  a  dirty  job 
particularly  to  my  liking." 

Both  the  Morgans  were  about  to  fall  on  Torres,  when 
the  Queen  held  up  her  hand. 

"  First,"  she  said,  "  let  him  return  to  me,  from  there 
in  his  belt,  the  dagger  he  stole  from  me." 

"  Ah,"  said  Enrico,  when  this  had  been  accomplished. 
"  Should  he  not  also  return  to  you,  lovely  lady,  the  gems 
he  filched?" 

Torres  did  not  hesitate.  Dipping  into  his  pocket,  he 
laid  a  handful  of  the  jewels  on  the  table.  Enrico  glanced 
at  the  Queen,  who  merely  waited  expectantly. 

"  More,"  said  Enrico. 

And  three  more  of  the  beautiful  uncut  stones  Torres 
added  to  the  others  on  the  table. 

"Would  you  search  me  like  a  common  pickpocket?" 
he  demanded  in  frantic  indignation,  turning  both  trousers' 
pockets  emptily  inside  out. 

"  Me,"  said  Francis. 

"  I  insist,"  said  Henry. 

"  Oh,  all  very  well,"  Francis  conceded.  "  Then  we'll 
do  it  together.  We  can  throw  him  farther  off  the  steps." 

Acting  as  one,  they  clutched  Torres  by  collar  and 
trousers  and  started  in  a  propulsive  rush  for  the  door. 

All  others  in  the  room  ran  to  the  windows  to  behold 
Torres'  exit ;  but  Enrico,  quickest  of  all,  gained  a  window 
first.  And,  afterward,  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  the 
Queen  scooped  the  gems  from  the  table  into  both  her 
hands,  and  gave  the  double  handful  to  Leoncia,  saying: 


292  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  From  Francis  and  me  to  you  and  Henry  —  your  wed 
ding  present." 

Yi  Poon,  having  left  the  crone  by  the  beach  and  crept 
back  to  peer  at  the  house  from  the  bushes,  chuckled  grat- 
ifiedly  to  himself  when  he  saw  the  rich  caballero  thrown 
off  the  steps  with  such  a  will  as  to  be  sent  sprawling  far 
out  into  the  gravel.  But  Yi  Poon  was  too  clever  to  let  on 
that  he  had  seen.  Hurrying  away,  he  was  half  down  the 
hill  ere  overtaken  by  Torres  on  his  horse. 

The  celestial  addressed  him  humbly,  and  Torres,  in  his 
general  rage,  lifted  his  riding  whip  savagely  to  slash  him 
across  the  face.  But  Yi  Poon  did  not  quail. 

"  The  Senorita  Leoncia,"  he  said  quickly,  and  arrested 
the  blow.  "  I  have  great  secret."  Torres  waited,  the 
whip  still  lifted  as  a  threat.  "  You  like  'm  some  other 
man  marry  that  very  nice  Senorita  Leoncia?  " 

Torres  dropped  the  whip  to  his  side. 

"  Go  on,"  he  commanded  harshly.  "  What  is  the 
secret?" 

'  Yo  no  want  'm  other  man  marry  that  Senorita  Leon 
cia?" 

"Suppose  I  don't?" 

'  Then,  suppose  you  have  secret,  you  can  stop  other 
man." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?     Spit  it  out." 

"  But  first,"  Yi  Poon  shook  his  head,  "  you  pay  me  six 
hundred  dollars  gold.  Then  I  tell  you  secret." 

"  I'll  pay  you/"  Torres  said  readily,  although  without 
the  slightest  thought  of  keeping  his  word.  "  You  tell  me 
first,  then,  if  no  lie,  I'll  pay  you.  -  See!  " 

From  his  breast  pocket  he  drew  a  wallet  bulging  with 
paper  bills;  and  Yi  Poon,  uneasily  acquiescing,  led  him 
down  the  road  to  the  crone  on  the  beach. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  This  old  woman,"  he  explained,  "  she  no  lie.  She 
sick  woman.  Pretty  soon  she  die.  She  is  afraid.  She 
talk  to  priest  along  Colon.  Priest  say  she  must  tell  secret, 
or  die  and  go  to  hell.  So  she  no  lie." 

"  Well,  if  she  doesn't  lie,  what  is  it  she  must  tell?  " 

"  You  pay  me  ?  " 

"  Sure.     Six  hundred  gold." 

"  Well,  she  born  Cadiz  in  old  country.  She  number 
one  servant,  number  one  baby  nurse.  One  time  she  take 
job  with  English  family  that  come  traveling  in  her 
country.  Long  time  she  work  with  that  family.  She  go 
back  along  England.  Then,  bime  by  —  you  know  Span 
ish  blood  very  hot  —  she  get  very  mad.  That  family 
have  one  little  baby  girl.  She  steal  little  baby  girl  and 
run  away  to  Panama.  That  little  baby  girl  Senor  Solano 
he  adopt  just  the  same  his  own  daughter.  He  have  plenty 
sons  and  no  daughter.  So  that  little  baby  girl  he  make 
his  daughter.  But  that  old  woman  she  no  tell  what  name 
belong  little  girl's  family.  That  family  very  high  blood, 
very  rich,  everybody  in  England  know  that  family.  That 
family's  name  'Morgan.'  You  know  that  name?  In 
Colon  comes  San  Antonio  men  who  say  Senor  Solano's 
daughter  marry  English  Gringo  named  Morgan.  That 
Gringo  Morgan  the  Senorita  Leoncia's  brother." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Torres  with  maleficent  delight. 

"  You  pay  me  now  six  hundred  gold,"  said  Yi  Poon. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  fool  you  are,"  said  Torres  with 
untold  mockery  in  his  voice.  "  You  will  learn  better  per 
haps  some  day  the  business  of  selling  secrets.  Secrets 
are  not  shoes  or  mahogany  timber.  A  secret  told  is  no 
more  than  a  whisper  in  the  air.  It  comes.  It  goes.  It 
is  gone.  It  is  a  ghost.  Who  has  seen  it?  You  can 
claim  back  shoes  or  mahogany  timber.  You  can  never 
claim  back  a  secret  when  you  have  told  it." 

"  We  talk  of  ghosts,  you  and  I,"  said  Yi  Poon  calmly. 


294  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  And  the  ghosts  are  gone.  I  have  told  you  no  secret. 
You  have  dreamed  a  dream.  When  you  tell  men  they 
will  ask  you  who  told  you.  And  you  will  say,  *  Yi  Poon.' 
But  Yi  Poon  will  say, '  No.'  And  they  will  say,  '  Ghosts/ 
and  laugh  at  you." 

Yi  Poon,  feeling  the  other  yield  to  his  superior  subtlety 
of  thought,  deliberately  paused. 

"  We  have  talked  whispers,"  he  resumed  after  a  few 
seconds.  "  You  speak  true  when  you  say  whispers  are 
ghosts.  When  I  sell  secrets  I  do  not  sell  ghosts.  I  sell 
shoes.  I  sell  mahogany  timber.  My  proofs  are  what  I 
sell.  They  are  solid.  On  the  scales  they  will  weigh 
weight.  You  can  tear  the  paper  of  them,  which  is  legal 
paper  of  record,  on  which  they  are  written.  Some  of 
them,  not  paper,  you  can  bite  with  your  teeth  and  break 
your  teeth  upon.  For  the  whispers  are  already  gone  like 
morning  mists.  I  have  proofs.  You  will  pay  me  six 
hundred  gold  for  the  proofs,  or  men  will  laugh  at  you  for 
lending  your  ears  to  ghosts." 

"  All  right,"  Torres  capitulated,  convinced.  "  Show 
me  the  proofs  that  I  can  tear  and  bite." 

"  Pay  me  the  six  hundred  gold." 

"  When  you  show  me  the  proofs." 

"  The  proofs  you  can  tear  and  bite  are  yours  after  you 
have  put  the  six  hundred  gold  into  my  hand.  You 
promise.  A  promise  is  a  whisper,  a  ghost.  I  do  not  do 
business  with  ghost  money.  You  pay  me  real  money  I 
can  tear  or  bite." 

And  in  the  end  Torres  surrendered,  paying  in  advance 
for  what  did  satisfy  him  when  he  had  examined  the  docu 
ments,  the  old  letters,  the  baby  locket  and  the  baby 
trinkets.  And  Torres  not  only  assured  Yi  Poon  that  he 
was  satisfied,  but  paid  him  in  advance,  on  the  latter's  in 
sistence,  an  additional  hundred  gold  to  execute  a  com 
mission  for  him. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  295 

Meanwhile,  in  the  bathroom  which  connected  their  bed 
rooms,  clad  in  fresh  underlinen  and  shaving  with  safety 
razors,  Henry  and  Francis  were  singing : 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew.  .  .  ." 

In  her  charming  quarters,  aided  and  abetted  by  a  couple 
of  Indian  seamstresses,  Leoncia,  half  in  mirth,  half  in 
sadness,  and  in  all  sweetness  and  wholesomeness  of  gen 
erosity,  was  initiating  the  Queen  into  the  charmingness 
of  civilized  woman's  dress.  The  Queen,  a  true  woman 
to  her  heart's  core,  was  wild  with  delight  in  the  countless 
pretties  of  texture  and  adornment  with  which  Leoncia's 
wardrobe  was  stored.  It  was  a  maiden  frolic  for  the 
pair  of  them,  and  a  stitch  here  and  a  take-up  there  modi 
fied  certain  of  Leoncia's  gowns  to  the  Queen's  slender- 
ness. 

"  No,"  said  Leoncia,  judicially.  "  You  will  not  need  a 
corset.  You  are  the  one  woman  in  a  hundred  for  whom 
a  corset  is  not  necessary.  You  have  the  roundest  lines 
for  a  thin  woman  that  I  ever  saw.  You  —  Leoncia 
paused,  apparently  deflected  by  her  need  for  a  pin  from 
her  dressing  table,  for  which  she  turned ;  but  at  the  same 
time  she  swallowed  the  swelling  that  choked  in  her  throat, 
so  that  she  was  able  to  continue:  "You  are  a  beautiful 
bride,  and  Francis  can  only  grow  prouder  of  you." 

In  the  bathroom,  Francis,  finished  shaving  first,  broke 
off  the  song  to  respond  to  the  knock  at  his  bedroom  door 
and  received  a  telegram  from  Fernando,  the  next  to  the 
youngest  of  the  Solano  brothers.  And  Francis  read : 

Important  your  immediate  return.  Need  more  margins. 
Whole  market  very  weak  but  a  strong  attack  on  all  your  stocks 
except  Tampico  Petroleum  which  is  strong  as  ever.  Wire  me 
when  to  expect  you.  Situation  is  serious.  Think  I  can  hold 
out  if  you  start  to  return  at  once.  Wire  me  at  once. 

BASCOM. 


296  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

In  the  living  room  the  two  Morgans  found  Enrico  and 
his  sons  opening  wine. 

"  Having  but  had  my  daughter  restored  to  me,"  En 
rico  said,  "  I  now  lose  her  again.  But  it  is  an  easier 
loss,  Henry.  To-morrow  shall  be  the  wedding.  It  can 
not  take  place  too  quickly.  It  is  sure,  right  now,  that  that 
scoundrel  Torres  is  whispering  all  over  San  Antonio 
Leoncia's  latest  unprotected  escapade  with  you." 

Ere  Henry  could  express  his  gratification,  Leoncia 
and  the  Queen  entered.  He  held  up  his  glass  and 
toasted : 

"To  the  bride!" 

Leoncia,  not  understanding,  raised  a  glass  from  the 
table  and  glanced  to  the  Queen. 

"  No,  no,"  Henry  said,  taking  her  glass  with  the  inten 
tion  of  passing  it  to  the  Queen. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Enrico.  "  Neither  shall  drink  the  toast 
which  is  incomplete.  Let  me  make  it : 

"  To  the  brides !  " 

"  You  and  Henry  are  to  be  married  to-morrow,"  Ales- 
andro  explained  to  Leoncia. 

Unexpected  and  bitter  though  the  news  was,  Leoncia 
controlled  herself,  and  dared  with  assumed  jollity  to  look 
Francis  in  the  eyes  while  she  cried: 

"  Another  toast !     To  the  bridegrooms !  " 

Difficult  as  Francis  had  found  it  to  marry  the  Queen 
and  maintain  equanimity,  he  now  found  equanimity  im 
possible  at  the  announcement  of  the  immediate  marriage 
of  Leoncia.  Nor  did  Leoncia  fail  to  observe  how  hard 
he  struggled  to  control  himself.  His  suffering  gave  her 
secret  joy,  and  with  a  feeling  almost  of  triumph  she 
watched  him  take  advantage  of  the  first  opportunity  to 
leave  the  room. 

Shpwing  them  his  telegram  and  assuring  them  that  his 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  „  2Q7 

fortune  was  at  stake,  he  said  he  must  get  off  and  ask 
Fernando  to  arrange  for  a  rider  to  carry  a  message  to  the 
government  wireless  at  San  Antonio. 

Nor  was  Leoncia  long  in  following  him.  In  the  library 
she  came  upon  him,  seated  at  the  reading  table,  his  tele 
gram  unwritten,  while  his  gaze  was  fixed  upon  a  large 
photograph  of  her  which  he  had  taken  from  its  place  on 
top  the  low  book-shelves.  All  of  which  was  too  much  for 
her.  Her  involuntary  gasping  sob  brought  him  to  his  feet 
in  time  to  catch  her  as  she  swayed  into  his  arms.  And 
before  either  knew  it  their  lips  were  together  in  fervent 
expression. 

Leoncia  struggled  and  tore  herself  away,  gazing  upon 
her.  lover  with  horror. 

"  This  must  stop,  Francis !  "  she  cried.  "  More :  you 
cannot  remain  here  for  my  wedding.  If  you  do,  I  shall 
not  be  responsible  for  my  actions.  There  is  a  steamer 
leaves  San  Antonio  for  Colon.  You  and  your  wife  must 
sail  on  it.  You  can  easily  catch  passage  on  the  fruit 
boats  to  New  Orleans  and  take  train  to  New  York.  I 
love  you !  you  know  it." 

"  The  Queen  and  I  are  not  married !  "  Francis  pleaded, 
beside  himself,  overcome  by  what  had  taken  place. 
"  That  heathen  marriage  before  the  Altar  of  the  Sun  was 
no  marriage.  In  neither  deed  nor  ceremony  are  we  mar 
ried.  I  assure  you  of  that,  Leoncia.  It  is  not  too 
late  — 

"  That  heathen  marriage  has  lasted  you  thus  far,"  she 
interrupted  him  with  quiet  firmness.  "  Let  it  last  you  to 
New  York,  at  least,  to  —  to  Colon." 

"  The  Queen  will  not  have  any  further  marriage  after 
our  forms,"  Francis  said.  "  She  insists  that  all  her  fe- 
male  line  before  her  has  been  so  married  and  that  the  Sun 
Altar  ceremony  is  sacredly  binding." 


298  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Leoncia  shrugged  her  shoulders  non-committally,  al 
though  her  face  was  stern  with  resolution. 

"  Marriage  or  no,"  she  replied,  "  you  must  go  —  to 
night  —  the  pair  of  you.  Else  I  shall  go  mad.  I  warn 
you:  I  shall  not  be  able  to  withstand  the  presence  of 
you.  I  cannot,  I  know  I  cannot,  be  able  to  stand  the  sight 
of  you  while  I  am  being  married  to  Henry  and  after  I 
am  married  to  Henry  —  Oh,  please,  please,  do  not  mis 
understand  me.  I  do  love  Henry,  but  not  in  the  —  not 
in  that  way  - —  not  in  the  way  I  love  you.  I  —  and  I 
am  not  ashamed  of  the  boldness  with  which  I  say  it  —  I 
love  Henry  about  as  much  as  you  love  the  Queen;  but  I 
love  you  as  I  should  love  Henry,  as  you  should  love  the 
Queen,  as  I  know  you  do  love  me." 

Shev  caught  his  hand  and  pressed  it  against  her  heart. 

"  There !     For  the  last  time !     Now  go!  " 

But  his  arms  were  around  her,  and  she  could  not  help 
but  yield  her  lips.  Again  she  tore  herself  away,  this  time 
fleeing  to  the  doorway.  Francis  bowed  his  head  to  her 
decision,  then  picked  up  her  picture. 

"  I  shall  keep  this,"  he  announced. 
'  You  oughtn't  to,"  she  flashed  a  last  fond  smile  at 
him.      '  You  may,"  she  added,  as  she  turned  and  was 
gone. 

Yet  Yi  Poon  had  a  commission  to  execute,  for  which 
Torres  had  paid  him  one  hundred  gold  in  advance.  Next 
morning,  with  Francis  and  the  Queen  hours  departed  on 
their  way  to  Colon,  Yi  Poon  arrived  at  the  Solana  haci 
enda.  Enrico,  smoking  a  cigar  on  the  veranda  and  very 
much  pleased  with  himself  and  all  the  world  and  the  way 
the  world  was  going,  recognized  and  welcomed  Yi  Poon 
as  his  visitor  of  the  day  before.  Even  ere  they  talked, 
Leoncia's  father  had  dispatched  Alesandro  for  the  five 
hundred  pesos  agreed  upon.  And  Yi  Ppon,  whose  pro- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  299 

\ 

fession  was  trafficking  in  secrets,  was  not  averse  to  selling 
his  secret  the  second  time.  Yet  was  he  true  to  his  salt, 
insofar  as  he  obeyed  Torres'  instructions  in  refusing  to 
tell  the  secret  save  in  the  presence  of  Leoncia  and  Henry. 

"  That  secret  has  the  string  on  it,"  Yi  Poon  apologized, 
after  the  couple  had  been  summoned,  as  he  began  un 
wrapping  the  parcel  of  proofs.  *  The  Senorita  Leoncia 
and  the  man  she  is  going  to  marry  must  first,  before  any 
body  else,  look  at  these  things.  Afterward,  all  can  look.'5 

"  Which  is  fair,  since  they  are  more  interested  than  any 
of  us,"  Enrico  conceded  grandly,  although  at  the  same 
time  he  betrayed  his  eagerness  by  the  impatience  with 
which  he  motioned  his  daughter  and  Henry  to  take  the 
evidence  to  one  side  for  examination. 

He  tried  to  appear  uninterested,  but  his  side-glanqes 
missed  nothing  of  what  they  did.  To  his  amazement,  he 
saw  Leoncia  suddenly  cast  down  a  legal-appearing  docu 
ment,  which  she  and  Henry  had  read  through,  and  throw 
her  arms,  whole-heartedly  and  freely  about  his  neck,  and 
whole-heartedly  and  freely  kiss  him  on  the  lips.  Next, 
Enrico  saw  Henry  step  back  and  exclaim  in  a  dazed,  heart 
broken  way : 

"But,  my  God,  Leoncia!  This  is  the  end  of  every 
thing.  Never  can  we  be  husband  and  wife!  " 

"Eh?"  Enrico  snorted.  "When  everything  was  ar 
ranged!  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  This  is  an  insult! 
Marry  you  shall,  and  marry  to-day !  " 

Henry,  stupefied,  looked  to  Leoncia  to  speak. 

"  It  is  against  God's  law  and  man's,"  she  said,  "  for  a 
man  to  marry  his  sister.  Now  I  understand  my  strange 
love  for  Henry.  He  is  my  brother.  We  are  full  brother 
and  sister,  unless  these  documents  lie." 

And  Yi  Poon  knew  that  he  could  take  report  to  Torres 
that  the  marriage  would  not  take  place  and  would  never 
take  place. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CATCHING  a  United  Fruit  Company  boat  at  Colon  with 
in  fifteen  minutes  after  landing  from  the  small  coaster, 
the  Queen's  progress  with  Francis  to  New  York  had  been 
a  swift  rush  of  fortunate  connections.  At  New  Orleans 
a  taxi  from  the  wharf  to  the  station  and  a  racing  of  por 
ters  with  land  luggage  had  barely  got  them  aboard  the 
train  just  as  it  started.  Arrived  at  New  York,  Francis 
had  been  met  by  Bascom,  in  Francis'  private  machine,  and 
'the  rush  had  continued  to  the  rather  ornate  palace  R.  H. 
M.  himself,  Francis'  father,  had  built  out  of  his  millions 
on  Riverside  Drive. 

So  it  was  that  the  Queen  knew  scarcely  more  of  the 
great  world  than  when  she  first  started  her  travels  by 
leaping  into  the  subterranean  river.  Had  she  been  a 
lesser  creature,  she  would  have  been  stunned  by  this 
vast  civilization  'around  her.  As  it  was,  she  was 
royally  inconsequential,  accepting  such  civilization  as 
an  offering  from  her  royal  spouse.  Royal  he  was, 
served  by  many  slaves.  Had  she  not,  on  steamer 
and  train,  observed  it?  And  here,  arrived  at  his  palace, 
she  took  as  a  matter  of  course  the  showing  of  house  serv 
ants  that  greeted  them.  The  chauffeur  opened  the  door 
of  the  limousine.  Other  servants  carried  in  the  hand  bag 
gage.  Francis  touched  his  hand  to  nothing,  save  to  her 
arm  to  assist  her  to  alight.  Even  Bascom  —  a  man  she 
divined  was  no  servitor  —  she  also  divined  as  one  who 
served  Francis.  And  she  could  not  but  observe  Bascom 
depart  in  Francis'  limousine,  under  instruction  and  com 
mand  of  Francis. 

She  had  been  a  queen,  in  an  isolated  valley,  over  a  hand- 

300 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  3OI 

ful  of  savages.  Yet  here,  in  this  mighty  land  of  kings, 
her  husband  ruled  kings.  It  was  all  very  wonderful,  and 
she  was  deliciously  aware  that  her  queenship  had  suffered 
no  diminishing  by  her  alliance  with  Francis. 

Her  delight  in  the  interior  of  the  mansion  was  nai've 
and  childlike.  Forgetting  the  servants,  or,  rather,  ignor 
ing  them  as  she  ignored  her  own  attendants  in  her  lake 
dwelling,  she  clapped  her  hands  in  the  great  entrance  hall, 
glanced  at  the  marble  stairway,  tripped  in  a  little  run  to 
the  nearest  apartment,  and  peeped  in.  It  was  the  library, 
which  she  had  visioned  in  the  Mirror  of  the  World  the 
first  day  she  saw  Francis.  And  the  vision  realized  itself, 
for  Francis  entered  with  her  into  the  great  room  of 
books,  his  arm  about  her,  just  as  she  had  seen  him  on  the 
fluid-metal  surface  of  the  golden  bowl.  The  telephones, 
and  the  stock-ticker,  too,  she  remembered;  and,  just  as 
she  had  foreseen  herself  do,  she  crossed  over  to  the  ticker 
curiously  to  examine,  and  Francis,  his  arm  still  about  her, 
stood  by  her  side. 

Hardly  had  he  begun  an  attempted  explanation  of  the 
instrument,  and  just  as  he  realized  the  impossibility  of 
teaching  her  in  several  minutes  all  the  intricacies  of  the 
stock  market  institution,  when  his  eyes  noted  on  the  tape 
that  Frisco  Consolidated  was  down  twenty  points  —  a 
thing  unprecedented  in  that  little  Iowa  railroad  which 
R.  H.  M.  had  financed  and  builded  and  to  the  day  of  his 
death  maintained  proudly  as  so  legitimate  a  creation,  that, 
though  half  the  banks  and  all  of  Wall  Street  crashed,  it 
would  weather  any  storm. 

The  Queen  viewed  with  alarm  the  alarm  that  grew  on 
Francis'  face. 

"  It  is  magic  —  like  my  Mirror  of  the  World?"  she 
half -queried,  half -stated. 

Francis  nodded. 

"  It  tells  you  secrets,  I  know,"  she  continued.     "  Like 


3O2  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

> 

my  golden  bowl,  it  brings  all  the  world,  here  within  this 
very  room,  to  you.  It  brings  you  trouble.  That  is  very 
plain.  But  what  trouble  can  this  world  bring  you,  who 
are  one  of  its  great  kings?  " 

He  opened  his  mouth  to  reply  to  her  last  question, 
halted,  and  said  nothing,  realizing  the  impossibility  of  con 
veying  comprehension  to  her,  the  while,  under  his  eyelids, 
or  at  the  foreground  of  his  brain,  burned  pictures  of 
great  railroad  and  steamship  lines,  of  teeming  terminals 
and  noisy  docks ;  of  miners  toiling  in  Alaska,  in  Montana, 
in  Death  Valley ;  of  bridled  rivers,  and  harnessed  water 
falls,  and  of  power-lines  stilting  across  lowlands  and 
swamps  and  marshes  on  two-hundred-foot  towers ;  and 
of  all  the  mechanics  and  economics  and  finances  of  the 
twentieth  century  machine-civilization. 

"It  brings  you  trouble,"  she  repeated.  "And,  alas! 
I  cannot  help  you.  My  golden  bowl  is  no  more.  Never 
again  shall  I  see  the  world  in  it.  I  am  no  longer  a  ruler 
of  the  future.  I  am  a  woman  merely,  and  helpless  in  this 
strange,  colossal  world  to  which  you  have  brought  me.  I 
am  a  woman  merely,  and  your  wife,  Francis,  your  proud 
wife." 

Almost  did  he  love  her,  as,  dropping  the  tape,  he  pressed 
her  closely  for  a  moment  ere  going  over  to  the  battery 
of  telephones.  She  is  delightful,  was  his  thought 
There  is  neither  guile  nor  malice  in  her,  only  woman, 
all  woman,  lovely  and  lovable  —  alas,  that  Leoncia 
should  ever  and  always  arise  in  my  thoughts  between 
her  whom  I  have  and  herself  whom  I  shall  never  have! 

"  More  magic,"  the  Queen  murmured,  as  Francis,  get 
ting  Bascom's  office,  said : 

"  Mr.  Bascom  will  undoubtedly  arrive  back  in  half  an 
hour.  This  is  Morgan  talking  —  Francis  Morgan.  Mr. 
Bascom  left  for  his  office  not  five  minutes  ago.  When 
he  arrives,  tell  him  that  I  have  started  for  his  office  and 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  303 

shall  not  be  more  than  five  minutes  behind  him.  This  is 
important.  Tell  him  I  am  on  the  way.  Thank  you. 
Good-by." 

Very  naturally,  with  all  the  wonders  of  the  great  house 
yet  to  be  shown  her,  the  Queen  betrayed  her  disappoint 
ment  when  Francis  told  her  he  must  immediately  depart 
for  a  place  called  Wall  Street. 

"  What  is  it,"  she  asked,  with  a  pout  of  displeasure, 
"  that  drags  you  away  from  me  like  a  slave?  " 

"  It  is  business  —  and  very  important,"  he  told  her  with 
a  smile  and  a  kiss. 

"  And  what  is  business  that  it  should  have  power  over 
you  who  are  a  king?  Is  business  the  name  of  your  god 
whom  all  of  you  worship  as  the  Sun  God  is  worshiped  by 
my  people?  " 

He  smiled  at  the  almost  perfect  appositeness  of  her 
idea,  saying: 

"  It  is  the  great  American  god.  Also,  it  is  a  very  ter 
rible  god,  and  when  it  slays  it  slays  terribly  and  swiftly." 

"  And  you  have  incurred  its  displeasure?  "  she  queried. 

"  Alas,  yes,  though  I  know  not  how.  I  must  go  to 
Wall  Street  — " 

"  Which  is  its  altar?  "  she  broke  in  to  ask. 

"  Which  is  its  altar,"  he  answered,  "  and  where  I  must 
find  out  wherein  I  have  offended  and  wherein  I  may  pla 
cate  and  make  amends." 

His  hurried  attempt  to  explain  to  her  the  virtues  and 
functions  of  the  maid  he  had  wired  for  from  Colon, 
scarcely  interested  her,  and  she  broke  him  off  by  saying 
that  evidently  the  maid  was  similar  to  the  Indian  women 
who  had  attended  her  in  the  Valley  of  Lost  Souls,  and 
that  she  had  been  accustomed  to  personal  service  ever  since 
she  was  a  little  girl  learning  English  and  Spanish  from 
her  mother  in  the  house  on  the  lake. 

But  when  Francis  caught  up  his  hat  and  kissed  her, 


3°4  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

she    relented    and    wished    him    luck   before   the    altar. 

After  several  hours  of  amazing  adventures  in  her  own 
quarters,  where  the  maid,  a  Spanish-speaking  French 
woman,  acted  as  guide  and  mentor,  and  after  being  vari 
ously  measured  and  gloated  over  by  a  gorgeous  woman 
who  seemed  herself  a  queen  and  who  was  attended  by 
two  young  women,  and  who,  in  the  Queen's  mind,  was 
without  doubt  summoned  to  serve  her  and  Francis,  she 
came  back  down  the  grand  stairway  to  investigate  the 
library  with  its  mysterious  telephones  and  ticker. 

Long  she  gazed  at  the  ticker  and  listened  to  its  irreg 
ular  chatter.  But  she,  who  could  read  and  write  English 
and  Spanish,  could  make  nothing  of  the  strange  hiero 
glyphics  that  grew  miraculously  on  the  tape.  Next,  she 
explored  the  first  of  the  telephones.  Remembering  how 
Francis  had  listened,  she  put  her  ear  to  the  transmitter. 
Then,  recollecting  his  use  of  the  receiver,  she  took  it  off 
its  hook  and  placed  it  to  her  ear.  The  voice,  unmistakably 
a  woman's,  sounded  so  near  to  her  that  in  her  startled  sur 
prise  she  dropped  the  receiver  and  recoiled.  At  this 
moment,  Parker,  Francis'  old  valet,  chanced  to  enter  the 
room.  She  had  not  observed  him  before,  and,  so,  im 
maculate  was  his  dress,  so  dignified  his  carriage,  that  she 
mistook  him  for  a  friend  of  Francis  rather  than  a  servi 
tor  —  a  friend  similar  to  Bascom  who  had  met  them  at 
the  station  with  Francis'  machine,  ridden  inside  with  them 
as  an  equal,  yet  departed  with  Francis'  commands  in  his 
ears  which  it  was  patent  he  was  to  obey. 

At  sight  of  Parker's  solemn  face  she  laughed  with 
embarrassment  and  pointed  inquiringly  to  the  telephone. 
Solemnly  he  picked  up  the  receiver,  murmured  "  A  mis 
take,"  into  the  transmitter,  and  hung  up.  In  those  sev 
eral  seconds  the  Queen's  thought  underwent  revolution. 
No  god's  nor  spirit's  voice  had  been  that  which  she  had 
heard,  but  a  woman's  voice. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  305 

"  Where  is  that  woman?  "  she  demanded. 

Parker  merely  stiffened  up  more  stiffly,  assumed  a  sol- 
emner  expression,  and  bowed. 

"  There  is  a  woman  concealed  in  the  house,"  she 
charged  with  quick  words.  "  Her  voice  speaks  there  in 
that  thing.  She  must  be  in  the  next  room  - 

"  It  was  Central,"  Parker  attempted  to  stem  the  flood 
of  her  utterance. 

"  I  care  not  what  her  name  is,"  the  Queen  dashed  on. 
"  I  shall  have  no  other  woman  but  myself  in  my  house. 
Bid  her  begone.  I  am  very  angry." 

Parker  was  even  stiffer  and  solemner,  and  a  new  mood 
came  over  her.  Perhaps  this  dignified  gentleman  was 
higher  than  she  had  suspected  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  lesser 
kings,  she  thought.  Almost  might  he  be  an  equal  king 
with  Francis,  and  she  had  treated  him  peremptorily  as 
less,  as  much  less. 

She  caught  him  by  the  hand,  in  her  impetuousness  not 
noting  his  reluctance,  drew  him  over  to  a  sofa,  and  made 
him  sit  beside  her.  To  add  to  Parker's  discomfiture, 
she  dipped  into  a  box  of  candy  and  began  to  feed  him 
chocolates,  closing  his  mouth  with  the  sweets  every  time 
he  opened  it  to  protest. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  when  she  had  almost  choked  him, 
"  is  it  the  custom  of  the  men  of  this  country  to  be  polyga 
mous  ?  " 

Parker  was  aghast  at  such  rawness  of  frankness. 

"  Oh,  I  know  the  meaning  of  the  word,"  she  assured 
,him.  "  So  I  repeat:  is  it  the  custom  of  the  men  of  this 
country  to  be  polygamous?  " 

"  There  is  no  woman  in  this  house,  besides  yourself, 
madam,  except  servant  women,"  he  managed  to  enun 
ciate.  'That  voice  you  heard  is  not  the  voice  of  a 
woman  in  this  house,  but  the  voice  of  a  woman  miles 


306  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

away  who  is  your  servant,  or  is  anybody's  servant  who 
desires  to  talk  over  the  telephone." 

"She  is  the  slave  of  the  mystery?"  the  Queen  ques 
tioned,  beginning  to  get  a  dim  glimmer  of  the  actuality 
of  the  matter. 

"  Yes,"  her  husband's  valet  admitted.  "  She  is  a  slave 
of  the  telephone." 

"Of  the  flying  speech?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  call  it  that,  of  the  flying  speech."  He 
was  desperate  to  escape  from  a  situation  unprecedented 
in  his  entire  career.  "  Come,  I  will  show  you,  madame. 
This  slave  of  the  flying  speech  is  yours  to  command  both 
by  night  and  day.  If  you  wish,  the  slave  will  enable  you 
to  talk  with  your  husband,  Mr.  Morgan  —  " 

"Now?" 

Parker  nodded,  arose,  and  led  her  to  the  telephone. 

"  First  of  all,"  he  instructed,  "  you  will  speak  to  the 
slave.  The  instant  you  take  this  down  and  put  it  to  your 
ear,  the  slave  will  respond.  It  is  the  slave's  invariable 
way  of  saying,  l  Number? '  Sometimes  she  says  it, 
'Number?  Number?'  And  sometimes  she  is  very  ir 
ritable. 

"  When  the  slave  has  said  '  Number,'  then  do  you  say 
'  Eddystone  1292,'  whereupon  the  slave  will  say  '  Eddy- 
stone  1292?  '  and  then  you  will  say,  '  Yes  please  — ' 

"  To  a  slave  I  shall  say  '  please  '  ?  "  she  interrupted. 

"  Yes,  madam,  for  these  slaves  of  the  flying  speech 
are  peculiar  slaves  that  one  never  sees.  I  am  not  a  young 
man,  yet  I  have  never  seen  a  Central  in  all  my  life. — 
Thus,  next,  after  a  moment,  another  slave,  a  woman, 
who  is  miles  away  from  the  first  one,  will  say  to  you, 
'  This  is  Eddystone  1292,'  and  you  will  say,  '  I  am  Mrs. 
Morgan.  I  wish  to  speak  with  Mr.  Morgan,  who  is,  I 
think,  in  Mr.  Bascom's  private  office.'  And  then  you 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  3O/ 

wait,  maybe  for  half  a  minute,  or  for  a  minute,  and  then 
Mr.  Morgan  will  begin  to  talk  to  you." 

"  From  miles  and  miles  away?  " 

"  Yes,  madam  —  just  as  if  he  were  in  the  next  room. 
And  when  Mr.  Morgan  says  '  Good-by,'  you  will  say 
*  Good-by/  and  hang  up  as  you  have  seen  me  do." 

And  all  that  Parker  had  told  her  came  to  pass  as  she 
carried  out  his  instructions.  The  two  different  slaves 
obeyed  the  magic  of  the  number  she  gave  them,  and  Fran 
cis  talked  and  laughed  with  her,  begged  her  not  to  be 
lonely,  and  promised  to  be  home  not  later  than  five  that 
afternoon. 

Meanwhile,  and  throughout  the  day,  Francis  was  a 
very  busy  and  perturbed  man. 

"What  secret  enemy  have  you?"  Bascom  again  and 
again  demanded,  while  Francis  shook  his  head  in  futility 
of  conjecture. 

"  For  see,  except  where  your  holdings  are  concerned, 
the  market  is  reasonable  and  right.  But  take  your  hold 
ings.  There's  Frisco  Consolidated.  There  is  neither 
sense  nor  logic  that  it  should  be  beared  this  way.  Only 
your  holdings  are  being  beared.  New  York,  Vermont 
and  Connecticut  paid  fifteen  per  cent,  the  last  four  quar 
ters  and  is  as  solid  as  Gibraltar.  Yet  it's  down,  and 
down  hard.  The  same  with  Montana  Lode,  Death  Val 
ley  Copper,  Imperial  Tungsten,  Northwestern  Electric. 
Take  Alaska  Trodwell  —  as  solid  as  the  everlasting  rock. 
The  movement  against  it  started  only  yesterday  late. 
It  closed  eight  points  down,  and  to-day  has  slumped  twice 
as  much  more.  Every  one  stock  in  which  you  are  heavily 
interested.  And  no  other  stocks  involved.  The  rest  of 
the  market  is  firm." 

"  So  is  Tampico  Petroleum  firm,"  Francis  said,  "  and 
I'm  interested  in  it  heaviest  of  all." 


3°8  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Bascom  shrugged  his  shoulders  despairingly. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  cannot  think  of  somebody  who  is 
doing  this  and  who  may  be  your  enemy?  " 

"  Not  for  the  life  of  me,  Bascom.  Can't  think  of  a 
soul.  I  haven't  made  any  enemies,  because,  since  my 
father  died,  I  have  not  been  active.  Tampico  Petroleum 
is  the  only  thing  I  ever  got  busy  with,  and  even  now  it's 
all  right."  He  strolled  over  to  the  ticker.  "  There. 
Half  a  point  up  for  five  hundred  shares." 

"  Just  the  same,  somebody's  after  you,"  Bascom  as 
sured  him.  "  The  thing  is  clear  as  the  sun  at  midday. 
I  have  been  going  over  the  reports  of  the  different  stocks 
at  issue.  They  are  colored,  artfully  and  delicately  col 
ored,  and  the  coloring  matter  is  pessimistic  and  official. 
Why  did  Northwestern  Electric  pass  its  dividend?  Why 
did  they  put  that  black-eye  stuff  into  Mulhaney's  report 
on  Montana  Lode?  Oh,  never  mind  the  rest  of  the  black- 
eyeing,  but  why  all  this  activity  of  unloading?  It's  clear. 
There's  a  raid  on,  and  it  seems  on  you,  and  it's  not  a 
sudden  rush  raid.  It's  been  slowly  and  steadily  growing. 
And  it's  ripe  to  break  at  the  first  rumor  of  war,  at  a  big 
strike,  or  a  financial  panic  —  at  anything  that  will  bear 
the  entire  market. 

"  Look  at  the  situation  you're  in  now,  when  all  hold 
ings  except  your  own  are  normal.  I've  covered  your 
margins,  and  covered  them.  A  grave  proportion  of  your 
straight  collateral  is  already  up.  And  your  margins  keep 
on  shrinking.  You  can  scarcely  throw  them  overboard. 
It  might  start  a  break.  It's  too  ticklish." 

"  There's  Tampico  Petroleum,  smiling  as  pretty  as  you 
please  —  it's  collateral  enough  to  cover  everything," 
Francis  suggested.  "  Though  I've  been  chary  of  touch 
ing  it,"  he  amended. 

Bascom  shook  his  head. 

"  There's  the  Mexican  revolution,  and  our  own  spine- 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  3°9 

less  admiration.  If  we  involved  Tampico  Petroleum, 
and  anything  serious  should  break  down  there,  you'd  be 
finished,  cleaned  out,  broke. 

"  And  yet,"  Bascom  resumed,  "  I  see  no  other  way  out 
than  to  use  Tampico  Petroleum.  You  see,  I  have  almost 
exhausted  what  you  have  placed  in  my  hands.  And  this 
is  no  whirlwind  raid.  It's  slow  and  steady  as  an  ad 
vancing  glacier.  I've  only  handled  the  market  for  you 
all  these  years,  and  this  is  the  first  tight  place  we've  got 
into.  Now  your  general  business  affairs?  Collins  has 
the  handling  and  knows.  You  must  know.  What  secu 
rities  can  you  let  me  have?  Now?  And  to-morrow? 
And  next  week  ?  And  the  next  three  weeks  ?  " 

"  How  much  do  you  want?  "  Francis  questioned  back. 

"A  million  before  closing  time  to-day."  Bascom 
pointed  eloquently  at  the  ticker.  "  At  least  twenty  mil 
lions  more  in  the  next  three  weeks,  if  —  and  mark  that 
if  well  —  if  the  world  remains  at  peace,  and  if  the  gen 
eral  market  remains  as  normal  as  it  has  been  for  the 
past  six  months." 

Francis  stood  up  with  decision  and  reached  for  his  hat. 

"  I'm  going  to  Collins  at  once.  He  knows  far  more 
about  my  outside  business  than  I  know  myself.  I  shall 
have  at  least  the  million  in  your  hands  before  closing 
time,  and  I've  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  I'll  cover  the  rest 
during  the  next  several  weeks." 

"  Remember,"  Bascom  warned  him,  as  they  shook 
hands,  "  it's  the  very  slowness  of  this  raid  that  is  ominous. 
It's  directed  against  you,  and  it's  no  fly-by-night  affair. 
Whoever  is  making  it,  is  doing  it  big,  and  must  be  big." 

Several  times,  late  that  afternoon  and  evening,  the 
Queen  was  called  up  by  the  slave  of  the  flying  speech  and 
enabled  to  talk  with  her  husband.  To  her  delight,  in  her 
own  room,  by  her  bedside,  she  found  a  telephone,  through 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

which,  by  calling  up  Collins'  office,  she  gave  her  good 
night  to  Francis.  Also,  she  essayed  to  kiss  her  heart  to 
him,  and  received  back,  queer  and  vague  of  sound,  his 
answering  kiss. 

She  knew  not  how  long  she  had  slept,  when  she  awoke. 
Not  moving,  through  her  half-open  eyes  she  saw  Francis 
peer  into  the  room  and  across  to  her.  When  he  had  gone 
softly  away,  she  leapt  out  of  bed  and  ran  to  the  door  in 
time  to  see  him  start  down  the  staircase. 

More  trouble  with  the  great  god  Business  —  was  her 
surmise.  He  was  going  down  to  that  wonderful  room, 
the  library,  to  read  more  of  the  dread  god's  threats  and 
warnings  that  were  so  mysteriously  made  to  take  form  of 
written  speeech  to  the  clicking  of  the  ticker.  She  looked 
at  herself  in  the  mirror,  adjusted  her  hair,  and  with  a 
little  love-smile  of  anticipation  on  her  lips  put  on  a  dress 
ing  gown  —  another  of  the  marvelous  pretties  of  Francis' 
forethought  and  providing. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  library  she  paused,  hearing  the 
voice  of  another  than  Francis.  At  first  thought  she  de 
cided  it  was  the  flying  speech,  but  immediately  afterwards 
she  knew  it  to  be  too  loud  and  near  and  different.  Peep 
ing  in,  she  saw  two  men  drawn  up  in  big  leather  chairs 
near  to  each  other  and  facing.  Francis,  tired  of  face 
from  the  day's  exertions,  still  wore  his  business  suit,  but 
the  other  was  clad  in  evening  dress.  And  she  heard  him 
call  her  husband  "  Francis,"  who,  in  turn,  called  him 
"  Johnny."  That,  and  the  familiarity  of  their  conver 
sation,  conveyed  to  her  that  they  were  old,  close  friends. 

"  And  don't  tell  me,  Francis,"  the  other  was  saying, 
"  that  you've  frivoled  through  Panama  all  this  while 
without  losing  your  heart  to  the  sefioritas  a  dozen 
times." 

"  Only  once,"  Francis  replied,  after  a  pause,  in  which 
the  Queen  noted  that  he  gazed  steadily  at  his  friend. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  311 

"  Further,"  he  went  on,  after  another  pause,  "  I  really 
lost  my  heart  —  but  not  my  head.  Johnny  Pathmore,  O 
Johnny  Pathmore,  you  are  a  mere  flirtatious  brute,  but 
I  tell  you  that  you've  lots  to  learn.  I  tell  you  that  in 
Panama  I  found  the  most  wonderful  woman  in  the  world 
—  a  woman  that  I  was  glad  I  had  lived  to  know,  a  woman 
that  I  would  gladly  die  for;  a  woman  of  fire,  of  passion, 
of  sweetness,  of  nobility,  a  very  queen  of  a  woman." 

And  the  Queen,  listening  and  looking  upon  the  intense 
exaltation  of  his  face,  smiled  with  proud  fondness  and 
certitude  to  herself,  for  had  she  not  won  a  husband  who 
remained  a  lover? 

"And  did  the  lady,  er  —  ah — did  she  reciprocate?" 
Johnny  Pathmore  ventured. 

The  Queen  saw  Francis  nod  as  he  solemnly  replied : 

"  She  loves  me  as  I  love  her  —  this  I  know  in  all  abso 
luteness."  He  stood  up  suddenly.  "  Wait.  I  will  show 
her  to  you." 

And  as  he  started  toward  the  door,  the  Queen,  in 
roguishness  of  a  very  extreme  of  happiness  at  her  hus 
band's  confession  she  had  overheard,  fled  trippingly  to 
hide  in  the  wide  doorway  of  a  grand  room  which  the  maid 
had  informed  her  was  the  drawing  room,  whatever  such 
room  might  be.  Deliciously  imagining  Francis'  sur 
prise  at  not  finding  her  in  bed,  she  watched  him  go  up  the 
wide  marble  staircase.  In  a  few  moments  he  descended. 
With  a  slight  chill  at  the  heart  she  observed  that  he  be 
trayed  no  perturbation  at  not  having  found  her.  In  his 
hand  he  carried  a  scroll  or  roll  of  thin  white  cardboard. 
Looking  neither  to  right  nor  left,  he  re-entered  the 
library. 

Peeping  in,  she  saw  him  unroll  the  scroll,  present  it  be 
fore  Johnny  Pathmore's  eyes,  and  heard  him  say : 

"  Judge  for  yourself.     There  she  is." 

"  But  why  be  so  funereal  about  it,  old  man  ?  "  Johnny 


312  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Pathmore  queried,  after  a  prolonged  examination  of  the 
photograph. 

"  Because  we  met  too  late.  I  was  compelled  to  marry 
another.  And  I  left  her  forever  just  a  few  hours  before 
she  was  to  marry  another,  which  marriage  had  been  com 
pelled  before  either  of  us  ever  knew  the  other  existed. 
And  the  woman  I  married,  please  know,  is  a  good 
and  splendid  woman.  She  will  have  my  devotion 
forever.  Unfortunately,  she  will  never  possess  my 
heart." 

In  a  great  instant  of  revulsion,  the  entire  truth  came  to 
the  Queen.  Clutching  at  her  heart  with  her  clasped 
hands,  she  nearly  fainted  of  the  vertigo  that  assailed  her. 
Although  they  still  talked  inside  the  library,  she  heard  no 
further  word  of  their  utterance  as  she  strove  with  slow 
success  to  draw  herself  together.  Finally,  with  indrawn 
shoulders,  a  little  forlorn  sort  of  a  ghost  of  the  resplen 
dent  woman  and  wife  she  had  been  but  minutes  before, 
she  staggered  across  the  hall  and  slowly,  as  if  in  a  night 
mare  wherein  speed  never  resides,  dragged  herself  up 
stairs.  In  her  room,  she  lost  all  control.  Francis'  ring 
was  torn  from  her  finger  and  stamped  upon.  Her  bou 
doir  cap  and  her  turtle-shell  hairpins  joined  the  general 
havoc  under  her  feet.  Convulsed,  shuddering,  muttering 
to  herself  in  her  extremity,  she  threw  herself  upon  her 
bed  and  only  managed,  in  an  ecstasy  of  anguish,  to  re 
main  perfectly  quiet  when  Francis  peeped  in  on  his  way 
to  bed. 

An  hour,  that  seemed  a  thousand  centuries,  she  gave 
him  to  go  to  sleep.  Then  she  arose,  took  in  hand  the 
crude  jeweled  dagger  which  had  been  hers  in  the  Valley 
of  the  Lost  Souls,  and  softly  tiptoed  into  his  room. 
There  on  the  dresser  it  was,  the  large  photograph  of 
Leoncia.  In  thorough  indecision,  clutching  the  dagger 
until  the  cramp  of  her  palm  and  fingers  hurt  her,  she 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  313 

debated  between  her  husband  and  Leoncia.  Once,  beside 
his  bed,  her  hand  raised  to  strike,  an  effusion  of  tears  into 
her  dry  eyes  obscured  her  seeing  so  that  the  dagger-hand 
dropped  as  she  sobbed  audibly. 

Stiffening  herself  with  changed  resolve,  she  crossed 
over  to  the  dresser.  A  pad  and  pencil  lying  handy, 
caught  her  attention.  She  scribbled  two  words,  tore  off 
the  sheet,  and  placed  it  upon  the  face  of  Leoncia  as  it 
lay  flat  and  upturned  on  the  surface  of  polished  wood. 
Next,  with  an  unerring  drive  of  the  dagger,  she  pinned  the 
note  between  the  pictured  semblance  of  Leoncia's  eyes, 
so  that  the  point  of  the  blade  penetrated  the  wood  and  left 
the  haft  quivering  and  upright. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MEANWHILE,  after  the  manner  of  cross  purposes  in 
New  York,  wherein  Regan  craftily  proceeded  with  his 
gigantic  raid  on  all  Francis'  holdings  while  Francis  and 
Bascom  vainly  strove  to  find  his  identity,  so  in  Panama 
were  at  work  cross  purposes  which  involved  Leoncia  and 
the  Solanos,  Torres  and  the  Jefe,  and,  not  least  in  im 
portance,  one  Yi  Poon,  the  rotund  and  moon-faced 
Chinese. 

The  little  old  judge',  who  was  the  Jefe's  creature,  sat 
asleep  in  court  in  San  Antonio.  He  had  slept  placidly 
for  two  hours,  occasionally  nodding  his  head  and  mut 
tering  profoundly,  although  the  case  was  a  grave  one,  in 
volving  twenty  years  in  San  Juan  where  the  strongest 
could  not  survive  ten  years.  But  there  was  no  need  for 
the  judge  to  consider  evidence  or  argument.  Before  the 
case  was  called,  decision  and  sentence  were  in  mind,  hav 
ing  been  put  there  by  the  Jefe.  The  prisoner's  lawyer 
ceased  his  perfunctory  argument,  the  clerk  of  the  court 
sneezed,  and  the  judge  woke  up.  He  looked  about  him 
briskly  and  said: 

"  Guilty." 

No  one  was  surprised,  not  even  the  prisoner. 

"  Appear  to-morrow  morning  for  sentence. —  Next 
case." 

Having  so  ordered,  the  judge  prepared  to  settle  down 
into  another  nap,  when  he  saw  Torres  and  the  Jefe  enter 
the  courtroom.  A  gleam  in  the  Jefe's  eye  was  his  clew, 
and  he  abruptly  dismissed  court  for  the  day. 

"  I  have  been  to  Rodriguez  Fernandez,"  the  Jefe  was 
explaining  five  minutes  later,  in  the  empty  courtroom. 

314 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  315 

"  He  says  it  was  a  natural  gem,  and  that  much  would  be 
lost  in  the  cutting,  but  that  nevertheless  he  would  still  give 
five  hundred  gold  for  it. —  Show  it  to  the  judge,  Sefior 
Torres,  and  the  rest  of  the  handful  of  big  ones." 

And  Torres  began  to  lie.  He  had  to  lie,  because  he 
could  not  confess  the  shame  of  having  had  the  gems  taken 
away  from  him  by  the  Solanos  and  the  Morgans  when 
they  threw  him  out  of  the  hacienda.  And  so  convinc 
ingly  did  he  lie  that  even  the  Jefe  he  convinced,  while  the 
judge,  except  in  the  matter  of  brands  of  strong  liquor, 
accepted  everything  the  Jefe  wanted  him  to  believe.  In 
brief,  shorn  of  the  multitude  of  details  that  Torres  threw 
in,  his  tale  was  that  he  was  so  certain  of  the  jeweler's 
under-appraisal  that  he  had  dispatched  the  gems  by  special 
messenger  to  his  agent  in  Colon  with  instructions  to  for 
ward  to  New  York  to  Tiffany's  for  appraisement  that 
might  lead  to  sale. 

As  they  emerged  from  the  courtroom  and  descended 
the  several  steps  that  were  flanked  by  single  adobe  pil 
lars  marred  by  bullet  scars  from  previous  revolutions,  the 
Jefe  was  saying: 

"  And  so,  needing  the  aegis  of  the  law  for  our  adven 
ture  after  these  gems,  and,  more  than  that,  both  of  us 
loving  our  good  friend  the  judge,  we  will  let  him  in  for 
a  modest  share  of  whatever  we  shall  gain.  He  shall  rep 
resent  us  in  San  Antonio  while  we  are  gone,  and,  if  needs 
be,  furnish  us  with  the  law's  protection." 

Now  it  happened  that  behind  one  of  the  pillars,  hat 
pulled  over  his  face,  Yi  Poon  half-sat,  half-reclined.  Nor 
was  he  there  by  mere  accident.  Long  ago  he  had  learned 
that  secrets  of  value,  which  always  connoted  the  troubles 
of  humans,  were  markedly  prevalent  around  courtrooms, 
which  were  the  focal  points  for  the  airing  of  such  troubles 
when  they  became  acute.  One  could  never  tell.  At  any 
moment  a  secret  might  leap  out  at  one  or  brim  over  to 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

one.  Therefore  it  was  like  a  fisherman  casting  his  line 
into  the  sea  for  Yi  Poon  to  watch  the  defendant  and  the 
plaintiff,  the  witnesses  for  and  against,  and  even  the  court 
hanger-on  or  casual-seeming  onlooker. 

So,  on  this  morning,  the  one  person  of  promise  that 
Yi  Poon  had  picked  out  was  a  ragged  old  peon  who 
looked  as  if  he  had  been  drinking  too  much  and  yet  would 
perish  in  his  condition  of  reaction  if  he  did  not  get  an 
other  drink  very  immediately.  Bleary-eyed  he  was,  and 
red-lidded,  with  desperate  resolve  painted  on  all  his  hag 
gard,  withered  lineaments.  When  the  courtroom  had 
emptied,  he  had  taken  up  his  stand  outside  on  the.  steps 
close  to  a  pillar. 

And  why? — Yi  Poon  had  asked  himself.  Inside  re 
mained  only  the  three  chief  men  of  San  Antonio  —  the 
Jefe,  Torres,  and  the  judge.  What  connection  between 
them,  or  any  of  them,  and  the  drink-sodden  creature  that 
shook  as  if  freeezing  in  the  scorching  blaze  of  the  direct 
sun-rays?  Yi  Poon  did  not  know,  but  he  did  know  that 
it  was  worth  while  waiting  on  a  chance,  no  matter  how 
remote,  of  rinding  out.  So,  behind  the  pillar,  where  no 
atom  of  shade  protected  him  from  the  cooking  sun  which 
he  detested,  he  lolled  on  the  steps  with  all  the  impersona 
tion  of  one  placidly  infatuated  with  sun-baths.  The  old 
peon  tottered  a  step,  swayed  as  if  about  to  fall,  yet  man 
aged  to  deflect  Torres  from  his  companions,  who  paused 
to  wait  for  him  on  the  pavement  a  dozen  paces  on,  rest 
less  and  hot-footed  as  if  they  stood  on  a  grid,  though  deep 
in  earnest  conversation.  And  Yi  Poon  missed  no  word 
nor  gesture,  nor  glint  of  eye  nor  shifting  face-line,  of 
the  dialogue  that  took  place  between  the  grand  Torres  and 
the  wreck  of  a  peon. 

"  What  now?  "  Torres  demanded  harshly. 

"  Money,  a  little  money,  for  the  love  of  God,  senor,  a 
little  money,"  the  ancient  peon  whined. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  317 

"  You  have  had  your  money,"  Torres  snarled.  "  When 
I  went  away  I  gave  you  double  the  amount  to  last  you 
twice  as  long.  Not  for  two  weeks  yet  is  there  a  centavo 
due  you." 

"  I  am  in  debt,"  was  the  old  man's  whimper,  the  while 
all  the  flesh  of  him  quivered  ancf  trembled  from  the  nerve- 
ravishment  of  the  drink  so  palpably  recently  consumed. 

"  On  the  pulque  slate  at  Peter  and  Paul's,"  Torres, 
with  a  sneer,  diagnosed  unerringly. 

"  On  the  pulque  slate  at  Peter  and  Paul's,"  was  the 
frank   acknowledgment.     "  And   the   slate   is    full.     No 
more  pulque  can  I  get  credit  for.     I  am  wretched  and 
suffer  a  thousand  torments  without  my  pulque." 
'You  are  a  pig  creature  without  reason!" 

A  strange  dignity,  as  of  wisdom  beyond  wisdom, 
seemed  suddenly  to  animate  the  old  wreck  as  he  straight 
ened  up,  for  the  nonce  ceased  from  trembling,  and  gravely 
said: 

"  I  am  old.  There  is  no  vigor  left  in  the  veins  or  the 
heart  of  me.  The  desires  of  my  youth  are  gone.  Not 
even  may  I  labor  with  this  broken  body  of  mine,  though 
well  I  know  that  labor  is  an  easement  and  a  forgetting. 
Not  even  may  I  labor  and  forget.  Food  is  a  distaste  in 
my  mouth  and  a  pain  in  my  belly.  Women  —  they  are  a 
pest  and  it  is  a  vexation  to  remember  ever  having  de 
sired.  Children  —  I  buried  my  last  a  dozen  years  gone. 
Religion  —  it  frightens  me.  Death  —  I  sleep  with  the 
terror  of  it.  Pulque  —  ah,  dear  God!  the  one  tickle  and 
taste  of  living  left  to  me! 

"  What  if  I  drink  over  much?  It  is  because  I  have 
much  to  forget,  and  have  a  little  space  yet  to  linger  in 
the  sun,  ere  the  Darkness,  for  my  old  eyes,  blots  out  the 
sun  forever." 

Impervious  to  the  old  man's  philosophy,  Torres  made 
an  impatient  threat  of  movement  that  he  was  going. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  A  few  pesos,  just  a  handful  of  pesos,"  the  old  peon 
pleaded. 

"  Not  a  centavo,"  Torres  said  with  finality. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  old  one  with  equal  finality. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  Torres  rasped  with  swift  sus 
picion. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  ?  "  was  the  retort,  with  such  em 
phasis  of  significance  as  to  make  Yi  Poon  wonder  for 
what  reason  Torres  gave  the  peon  what  seemed  a  pension 
or  an  allowance. 

"  I  pay  you,  according  to  agreement,  to  forget,"  said 
Torres. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  that  my  old  eyes  saw  you  stab  the 
Senor  Alfaro  Solano  in  the  back,"  the  peon  replied. 

Although  he  remained  hidden  and  motionless  in  his 
posture  of  repose  behind  the  pillar,  Yi  Poon  metaphori 
cally  sat  up.  The  Solanos  were  persons  of  place  and 
wealth.  That  Torres  should  have  murdered  one  of  them 
was  indeed  a  secret  of  price. 

"  Beast!  Pig  without  reason!  Animal  of  the  dirt!  " 
Torres'  hand  clenched  in  his  rage.  "  Because  I  am  kind 
do  you  treat  me  thus !  One  blabbing  of  your  tongue  and 
I  will  send  you  to  San  Juan.  You  know  what  that 
means.  Not  only  will  you  sleep  with  the  terror  of  death, 
but  never  for  a  moment  of  waking  will  you  be  free  of  the 
terror  of  living  as  you  stare  upon  the  buzzards  that  will 
surely  and  shortly  pick  your  bones.  And  there  will  be 
no  pulque  in  San  Juan.  There  is  never  any  pulque  in 
San  Juan  for  the  men  I  send  there.  So  ?  Eh  ?  I 
thought  so.  You  will  wait  two  weeks  for  the  proper 
time  when  I  shall  again  give  you  money.  If  you  do  not 
wait,  then  never,  this  side  of  your  interment  in  the  bellies 
of  buzzards,  will  you  drink  pulque  again." 

Torres  whirled  on  his  .heel  and  was  gone.  Yi  Poon 
watched  him  and  his  two  companions  go  down  the  street, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  319 

then  rounded  the  pillar  to  find  the  old  peon  sunk  down  in 
collapse  at  his  disappointment  of  not  getting  any  pulque, 
groaning  and  moaning  and  making  sharp  little  yelping 
cries,  his  body  quivering  as  dying  animals  quiver  in  the 
final  throes,  his  fingers  picking  at  his  flesh  and  garments 
as  if  picking  off  centipedes.  Down  beside  him  sat  Yi 
Poon,  who  began  a  remarkable  performance  of  his  own. 
Drawing  gold  coins  and  silver  ones  from  his  pockets  he 
began  to  count  over  his  money  with  chink  and  clink  that 
was  mellow  and  liquid  and  that  to  the  distraught  peon's 
ear  was  as  the  sound  of  the  rippling  and  riffling  of  foun 
tains  of  pulque. 

"  We  are  wise,"  Yi  Poon  told  him  in  grandiloquent 
Spanish,  still  clinking  the  money,  while  the  peon  whined 
and  yammered  for  the  few  centavos  necessary  for  one 
drink  of  pulque.  "  We  are  wise,  you  and  I,  old  man, 
and  we  will  sit  here  and  tell  each  other  what  we  know 
about  men  and  women,  and  life  and  love,  and  anger  and 
sudden  death,  the  rage  red  in  the  heart  and  the  steel 
bitter  cold  in  the  back;  and  if  you  tell  me  what  pleases 
me,  then  shall  you  drink  pulque  till  your  ears  run  out  with 
it,  and  your  eyes  are  drowned  in  it.  You  like  pulque,  eh? 
You  like  one  drink,  now,  now,  soon,  very  quick?  " 

The  night,  while  the  Jefe  Politico  and  Torres  or 
ganized  their  expedition  under  cover  of  the  dark,  was 
destined  to  be  a  momentous  one  in  the  Solano  hacienda. 
Things  began  to  happen  early.  Dinner  over,  drinking 
their  coffee  and  smoking  their  cigarettes,  the  family,  of 
which  Henry  was  accounted  one  by  virtue  of  his  brother 
hood  to  Leoncia,  sat  on  the  wide  front  veranda. 
Through  the  moonlight,  up  the  steps,  they  saw  a  strange 
figure  approach. 

"  It  is  like  a  ghost,"  said  Alvarado  Solano. 

"  A  fat  ghost,"  Martinez,  his  twin  brother,  amended. 


320  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  A  Chink  ghost  you  couldn't  poke  your  finger 
through,"  Ricardo  laughed. 

'  The  very  Chink  who  saved  Leoncia  and  me  from 
marrying,"  said  Henry  Morgan,  with  recognition. 

"  The  seller  of  secrets/'  Leoncia  gurgled.  "  And  if 
he  hasn't  brought  a  new  secret,  I  shall  be  disappointed." 

"  What  do  you  want,  Chinaman?  "  Alesandro,  the  eld 
est  of  the  Solano  brothers,  demanded  sharply. 

"  Nice  new  secret,  very  nice  new  secret,  maybe  you 
buy,"  Yi  Poon  murmured  proudly. 

'*  Your  secrets  are  too  expensive,  Chinaman,"  said  En 
rico  discouragingly. 

'  This  nice  new  secret  very  expensive,"  Yi  Poon  as 
sured  him  complacently. 

"  Go  away,"  old  Enrico  ordered.  "  I  shall  live  a  long 
time,  yet  to  the  day  of  my  death  I  care  to  hear  no  more 
secrets." 

But  Yi  Poon  was  suavely  certain  of  himself. 

"  One  time  you  have  very  fine  brother,"  he  said. 
"  One  time  your  very  fine  brother,  the  Senor  Alfaro 
Solano,  dies  with  knife  in  his  back.  Very  well.  Some 
secret,  eh?  " 

But  Enrico  was  on  his  feet  quivering. 

"You  know?"  he  almost  screamed  his  eager  interro 
gation. 

"  How  much  ?  "  said  Yi  Poon. 

"  All  I  possess !  "  Enrico  cried,  ere  turning  to  Alesan 
dro  to  add :  '  You  deal  with  him,  son.  Pay  him  well 
if  he  can  prove  by  witness  of  the  eye." 

"  You   bet,"   quoth   Yi    Poon.     "  I   got  witness.     He 
got  good  eye-sight.     He  see  man  stick  knife  in  the  Senor 
Alfaro's  back  in  the  dark.     His  name  .  .  ." 
'  Yes,  yes,"  Enrico  breathed  his  suspense. 

"  One  thousand  dollars  his  name,"  said  Yi  Poon,  hesi 
tating  to  make  up  his  mind  to  what  kind  of  dollars  he 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  321 

could  dare  to  claim.  "  One  thousand  dollars  gold,"  he 
concluded. 

Enrico  forgot  that  he  had  deputed  the  transaction  to 
his  eldest  son. 

"  Where  is  your  witness?  "  he  shouted. 

And  Yi  Poon,  calling  softly  down  the  steps  into  the 
shrubbery,  evoked  the  pulque-ravaged  peon,  a  real-looking 
ghost  who  slowly  advanced  and  tottered  up  the  steps. 

At  the  same  time,  on  the  edge  of  the  town,  twenty 
mounted  men,  among  whom  were  the  gendarmes  Rafael, 
Ignacio,  Angustino,  and  Vincente,  herded  a  pack  train  of 
more  than  twenty  mules  and  waited  the  command  of  the 
Jefe  to  depart  on  they  knew  not  what  mysterious  adven 
ture  into  the  Cordilleras.  What  they  did  know  was  that, 
herded  carefully  apart  from  all  other  animals,  was  a 
strapping  big  mule  loaded  with  two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  of  dynamite.  Also,  they  knew  that  the  delay 
was  due  to  the  Senor  Torres,  who  had  ridden  away  along 
the  beach  with  the  dreaded  Caroo  murderer,  Jose  Man- 
cheno,  who,  only  by  the  grace  of  God  and  of  the  Jefe 
Politico,  had  been  kept  for  years  from  expiating  on  the 
scaffold  his  various  offenses  against  life  and  law. 

And,  while  Torres  waited  on  the  beach  and  held  the 
Caroo's  horse  and  an  extra  horse,  the  Caroo  ascended  on 
foot  the  winding  road  that  led  to  the  hacienda  of  the 
Solanos.  Little  did  Torres  guess  that  twenty  feet  away, 
in  the  jungle  that  encroached  on  the  beach,  lay  a  placid- 
sleeping,  pulque-drunken,  old  peon,  with,  crouching  be 
side  him,  a  very  alert  and  very  sober  Chinese  with  a 
recently  acquired  thousand  dollars  stowed  under  his  belt. 
Yi  Poon  had  had  barely  time  to  drag  the  peon  into  hid 
ing  when  Torres  rode  along  in  the  sand  and  stopped  al 
most  beside  him. 

Up  at  the  hacienda,  all  members  of  the  household  were 


322  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

going-  to  bed.  Leoncia,  just  starting  to  let  down  her 
hair,  stopped  when  she  heard  the  rattle  of  tiny  pebbles 
against  her  windows.  Warning  her  in  low  whispers  to 
make  no  noise,  Jose  Manchena  handed  her  a  crumpled 
note  which  Torres  had  written,  saying  mysteriously : 

"  From  a  strange  Chinaman  who  waits  not  a  hundred 
feet  away  on  the  edge  of  the  shubbery." 

And  Leoncia  read,  in  execrable  Spanish: 

"  First  time,  I  tell  you  secret  about  Henry  Morgan.  This 
time  I  have  secret  about  Francis.  You  come  along  and  talk 
with  me  now." 

Leoncia's  heart  leaped  at  mention  of  Francis,  and  as 
she  slipped  on  a  mantle  and  accompanied  the  Caroo  it 
never  entered  her  head  to  doubt  that  Yi  Poon  was  waiting 
for  her. 

And  Yi  Poon,  down  on  the  beach  and  spying  upon  Tor 
res,  had  no  doubts  when  he  saw  the  Caroo  murderer 
appear  with  the  Solano  senorita,  bound  and  gagged,  slung 
across  his  shoulder  like  a  sack  of  meal.  Nor  did  Yi 
Poon  have  any  doubts  about  his  next  action,  when  he  saw 
Leoncia  tied  into  the  saddle  of  the  spare  horse  and  taken 
away  down  the  beach  at  a  gallop,  with  Torres  and  the 
Caroo  riding  on  either  side  of  her.  Leaving  the  pulque- 
sodden  peon  to  his  sleep,  the  fat  Chinaman  took  the  road 
up  the  hill  at  so  stiff  a  pace  that  he  arrived  breathless  at 
the  hacienda.  Not  content  with  knocking  at  the  door, 
he  beat  it  with  his  fists  and  feet  and  prayed  to  his  Chinese 
gods  that  no  peevish  Solano  should  take  a  shot  at  him 
before  he  could  explain  the  urgency  of  his  errand. 

"  Oh,  go  to  hell,"  Alesandro  said,  when  he  had  opened 
the  door  and  flashed  a  light  on  the  face  of  the  importu 
nate  caller. 

"  I  have  big  secret,"  Yi  Poon  panted.  !<  Very  big, 
brand-new  secret." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  323 

"  Come  around  to-morrow  in  business  hours/'  Ales- 
andro  growled  as  he  prepared  to  kick  the  Chinaman  off 
the  premises. 

"  I  don't  sell  secret/'  Yi  Poon  stammered  and  gasped. 
"  I  make  you  present.  I  give  secret  now.  The  Seriorita, 
your  sister,  she  is  stolen.  She  is  tied  upon  a  horse  that 
runs  fast  down  the  beach." 

But  Alesandro,  who  had  said  good  night  to  Leoncia, 
not  half  an  hour  before,  laughed  loudly  his  unbelief,  and 
prepared  again  to  boot  off  the  trafficker  in  secrets.  Yi 
Poon  was  desperate.  He  drew  forth  the  thousand  dollars 
and  placed  it  in  Alesandro's  hand,  saying: 

"  You  go  look  quick.  If  the  senorita  stop  in  this  house 
now,  you  keep  all  that  money.  If  the  senorita  no  stop, 
then  you  give  money  back  - 

And  Alesandro  was  convinced.  A  minute  later  he  was 
rousing  the  house.  Five  minutes  later  the  horse-peons, 
their  eyes  hardly  open  from  sound  sleep,  were  roping  and 
saddling  horses  and  pack-mules  in  the  corrals,  while  the 
Solano  tribe  was  pulling  on  riding  gear  and  equipping  it 
self  with  weapons. 

Up  and  down  the  coast,  and  on  the  various  paths  lead 
ing  back  to  the  Cordilleras,  the  Solanos  scattered,  quest 
ing  blindly  in  the  blind  dark  for  the  trail  of  the  abductors. 
As  chance  would  have  it,  thirty  hours  afterwards,  Henry 
alone  caught  the  scent  and  followed  it,  so  that,  camped  in 
the  very  Footstep  of  God  where  first  the  old  Maya  priest 
had  sighted  thfc  eyes  of  Chia,  he  found  the  entire  party  of 
twenty  men  and  Leoncia  cooking  and  eating  breakfast. 
Twenty  to  one,  never  fair  and  always  impossible,  did 
not  appeal  to  Henry  Morgan's  Anglo-Saxon  mind. 
What  did  appeal  to  him  was  the  dynamite-loaded  mule, 
tethered  apart  from  the  off-saddled  forty-odd  animals  and 
left  to  stand  by  the  careless  peons  with  its  load  still  on 


324  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

its  back.  Instead  of  attempting  the  patently  impossible 
rescue  of  Leoncia,  and  recognizing  that  in  numbers  her 
woman's  safety  lay,  he  stole  the  dynamite-mule. 

Not  far  did  he  take  it.  -In  the  shelter  of  the  low  woods, 
he  opened  the  pack  and  filled  all  his  pockets  with  sticks 
of  dynamite,  a  box  of  detonators,  and  a  short  coil  of 
fuse.  With  a  regretful  look  at  the  rest  of  the  dynamite 
which  he  would  have  liked  to  explode  but  dared  not,  he 
busied  himself  along  the  line  of  retreat  he  would  have 
to  take  in  stealing  Leoncia  from  her  captors.  As  Fran 
cis,  on  a  previous  occasion  at  Juchitan,  had  sown  the  re 
treat  with  silver  dollars,  so,  this  time,  did  Henry  sow  the 
retreat  with  dynamite  —  the  sticks  in  small  bundles  and 
the  fuses,  no  longer  than  the  length  of  a  detonator,  and 
with  detonators  fast  to  each  end. 

Three  hours  Henry  devoted  to  lurking  around  the  camp 
in  the  Footstep  of  God,  ere  he  got  his  opportunity  to  sig 
nal  his  presence  to  Leoncia;  and  another  precious  two 
hours  were  wasted  ere  she  found  her  opportunity  to  steal 
away  to  him.  Which  would  not  have  been  so  bad,  had 
not  her  escape  almost  immediately  been  discovered,  and 
had  not  the  gendarmes  and  the  rest  of  Torres  party, 
mounted,  been  able  so  swiftly  to  overtake  them  on 
foot. 

When  Henry  drew  Leoncia  down  to  hide  beside  him  in 
the  shelter  of  a  rock,  and  at  the  same  time  brought  his 
rifle  into  action  ready  for  play,  she  protested. 

"  We  haven't  a  chance,  Henry,"  she  said.  "  They  are 
too  many.  If  you  fight  you  will  be  killed.  And  then 
what  will  become  of  me?  Better  that  you  make  your  own 
escape,  and  bring  help,  leaving  me  to  be  retaken,  than  that 
you  die  and  let  me  be  retaken  anyway." 

But  he  shook  his  head. 

"  We  are  not  going  to  be  taken,  dearest  sister.     Put 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  325 

your  trust  in  me  and  watch. —  Here  they  come  now. 
You  just  watch." 

Variously  mounted,  on  horses  and  pack  mules  —  which 
ever  had  come  handiest  in  their  haste-- Torres,  the  Jefe, 
and  their  men  clattered  into  sight.  Henry  drew  a  sight, 
not  on  them,  but  on  the  point  somewhat  nearer  where  he 
had  made  his  first  plant  of  dynamite.  When  he  pulled 
trigger,  the  intervening  distance  rose  up  in  a  cloud  of 
smoke  and  earth  dust  that  obscured  them.  As  the  cloud 
slowly  dissipated,  they  could  be  seen,  half  of  them,  ani 
mals  and  men,  overthrown,  and  all  of  them  dazed  and 
shocked  by  the  explosion. 

Henry  seized  Leoncia's  hand,  jerked  her  to  her  feet, 
and  ran  on  side  by  side  with  her.  Conveniently  beyond 
his  second  planting,  he  drew  her  down  beside  him  to  rest 
and  catch  breath. 

"  They  won't  come  on  so  fast  this  time,"  he  hissed  ex 
ultantly.  "  And  the  longer  they  pursue  us  the  slower 
they'll  come  on." 

True  to  his  forecast  when  the  pursuit  appeared,  it 
moved  very  cautionsly  and  very  slowly. 

"  They  ought  to  be  killed,"  Henry  said.  "  But  they 
have  no  chance,  and  I  haven't  the  heart  to  do  it.  But 
I'll  surely  shake  them  up  some." 

Again  he  fired  into  his  planted  dynamite,  and  again, 
turning  his  back  on  the  confusion  he  fled  to  his  third 
planting. 

After  he  had  fired  off  the  third  explosion,  he  raced 
Leoncia  to  his  tethered  horse,  put  her  in  the  saddle,  and 
ran  on  beside  her,  hanging  on  to  her  stirrup. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FRANCIS  had  left  orders  for  Parker  to  call  him  at 
eight  o'clock,  and  when  Parker  softly  entered  he  found 
his  master  still  asleep.  Turning  on  the  water  in  the  bath 
room  and  preparing  the  shaving  gear,  the  valet  reentered 
the  bedroom.  Still  moving  softly  about  so  that  his  mas 
ter  would  have  the  advantage  of  the  last  possible  second 
of  sleep,  Parker's  eyes  lighted  on  the  strange  dagger  that 
stood  upright,  its  point  pinning  through  a  note  and  a  pho 
tograph  and  into  the  hard  wood  of  the  dresser-top.  For 
a  long  time  he  gazed  at  the  strange  array,  then,  without 
hesitation,  carefully  opened  the  door  to  Mrs.  Morgan's 
room  and  peeped  in.  Next,  he  firmly  shook  Francis 
by  the  shoulder. 

The  latter's  eyes  opened,  for  a  second  betraying  the 
incomprehension  of  the  sleeper  suddenly  awakened,  then 
lighting  with  recognition  and  memory  of  the  waking  or 
der  he  had  left  the  previous  night. 

'  Time  to  get  up,  sir/'  the  valet  murmured. 

"  Which  is  ever  an  ill  time,"  Francis  yawned  with  a 
smile. 

He  closed  his  eyes  with  a  "  Let  me  lie  a  minute,  Par 
ker.  If  I  doze,  shake  me." 

But  Parker  shook  him  immediately. 

"  You  must  get  up  right  away,  sir.  I  think  some 
thing  has  happened  to  Mrs.  Morgan.  She  is  not  in  her 
room,  and  there  is  a  queer  note  and  a  knife  here  that  may 
explain.  I  don't  knowr,  sir —  ' 

Francis  was  out  of  bed  in  a  bound,  staring  one  moment 
at  the  dagger,  and  next,  drawing  it  out,  reading  the  note 
pver  and  over  as  if  its  simple  meaning,  contained  in  two 

326 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  327 

simple  words,  were  too  absurd  for  his  comprehension. 

"  Adios  forever/'  said  the  note. 

What  shocked  him  even  more,  was  the  dagger  thrust 
between  Leoncia's  eyes,  and,  as  he  stared  at  the  wound 
made  in  the  thin  cardboard,  it  came  to  him  that  he  had 
seen  this  very  thing  before,  and  he  remembered  back  to 
the  lake-dwelling  of  the  Queen  when  all  had  gazed  into 
the  golden  bowl  and  seen  variously,  and  when  he  had  seen 
Leoncia's  face  on  the  strange  liquid  metal  with  the  knife 
thrust  between  the  eyes.  He  even  put  the  dagger  back 
into  the  cardboard  wound  and  stared  at  it  some  more. 

The  explanation  was  obvious.  The  Queen  had  be 
trayed  jealousy  against  Leoncia  from  the  first,  and  here, 
in  New  York,  finding  her  rival's  photograph  on  her  hus 
band's  dresser,  had  no  more  missed  the  true  conclusion 
than  had  she  missed  the  pictured  features  with  her  point 
of  steel.  But  where  was  she?  Where  had  she  gone? 
—  she  who  was  the  veriest  stranger  that  had  ever  entered 
the  great  city,  who  called  the  telephone  the  magic  of  the 
flying  speech,  who  thought  of  Wall  Street  as  a  temple, 
and  regarded  Business  as  the  New  York  man's  god.  For 
all  the  world  she  was  as  unsophisticated  and  innocent  of  a 
great  city  as  had  she  been  a  traveler  from  Mars.  Where 
and  how  had  she  passed  the  night  ?  Where  was  she  now  ? 
Was  she  even  alive? 

Visions  of  the  morgue  with  its  unidentified  dead,  and 
of  bodies  drifting  out  to  sea  on  the  ebb,  rushed  into  his 
brain.  It  was  Parker  who  steadied  him  back  to  himself. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do,  sir?  Shall  I  call  up  the 
detective  bureau  ?  Your  father  always  - 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Francis  interrupted  quickly.  "  There  was 
one  man  he  employed  more  than  all  others,  a  young  man 
with  the  Pinkertons  —  do  you  remember  his  name?  " 

"  Birchman,  sir,"  Parker  answered  promptly,  moving 
away.  "  I  shall  send  for  him  to  come  at  once.'' 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

And  thereupon,  in  the  quest  after  his  wife,  Francis  en 
tered  upon  a  series  of  adventures  that  were  to  him,  a 
born  New  Yorker,  a  liberal  education  in  conditions  and 
phases  of  New  York  of  which,  up  to  that  time,  he  had 
been  profoundly  ignorant.  Not  alone  did  Birchman 
search,  but  he  had  at  work  a  score  of  detectives  under 
him  who  fine-tooth-combed  the  city,  while  in  Chicago  and 
Boston,  he  directed  the  activities  of  similar  men. 

Between  his  battle  with  the  unguessed  enemy  of  Wall 
Street,  and  the  frequent  call  he  received  to  go  here  and 
there  and  everywhere,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  to 
identify  what  might  possibly  be  his  wife,  Francis  led 
anything  but  a  boresome  existence.  He  forgot  what  reg 
ular  hours  of  sleep  were,  and  grew  accustomed  to  being 
dragged  from  luncheon  or  dinner,  or  of  being  routed  out 
of  his  bed,  to  respond  to  hurry  calls  to  come  and  look 
over  new-found  missing  ladies.  No  trace  of  one  answer 
ing  her  description,  who  had  left  the  city  by  train  or 
steamer  had  been  discovered,  and  Birchman  assiduously 
pursued  his  fine-tooth  combing,  convinced  that  she  was 
still  in  the  city. 

Thus,  Francis  took  trips  to  Matteawan  and  down  to 
Blackwell's  and  the  Tombs,  and  the  All-Night  Court  knew 
his  presence.  Nor  did  he  escape  being  dragged  to  count 
less  hospitals  nor  to  the  Morgue.  Once,  a  fresh-caught 
shop-lifter,  of  whom  there  was  no  criminal  record  and  to 
whom  there  was  no  clew  of  identity,  was  brought, to  his 
notice.  He  had  adventures  with  mysterious  women  cor 
nered  by  Birchman's  satellites  in  the  back  rooms  of 
Raines  hotels,  and,  on  the  West  Side,  in  the  Fifties,  was 
guilty  of  trespassing  upon  two  comparatively  innocent 
love-idyls,  to  the  embarrassment  of  all  concerned  includ 
ing  himself. 

Perhaps  his  most  interesting  and  tragic  adventure  was 
in  the  ten-million-dollar  mansion  o.f  Philip  January,  the 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  329 

Telluride  mining  king.  The  strange  woman,  a  lady  slen 
der,  had  wandered  in  upon  the  Januarys  a  week  before, 
ere  Francis  came  to  see  her.  And,  as  she  had  heart-brok 
enly  done  for  the  entire  week,  so  she  heart-breakingly 
did  for  Francis,  wringing  her  hands,  perpetually  weeping, 
and  murmuring  beseechingly :  "  Otho,  you  are  wrong. 
On  my  knees  I  tell  you  you  are  wrong.  Otho,  you,  and 
you  only,  do  I  love.  There  is  no  one  but  you,  Otho. 
There  has  never  been  any  one  but  you.  It  is  all  a  dread 
ful  mistake.  Believe  me,  Otho,  believe  me,  or  I  shall 
die  .  .  ." 

And  through  it  all,  the  Wall  Street  battle  went  on 
against  the  undiscoverable  and  powerful  enemy  who  had 
launched  what  Francis  and  Bascom  could  not  avoid 
acknowledging  was  a  catastrophic,  war-to-the-death  raid 
on  his  fortune. 

"If  only  we  can  avoid  throwing  Tampico  Petroleum 
into  the  whirlpool,"  Bascom  prayed. 

"  I  look  to  Tampico  Petroleum  to  save  me,"  Francis  re 
plied.  "  When  every  security  I  can  lay  hand  to  has 
been  engulfed,  then,  throwing  in  Tampico  Petroleum  will 
be  like  the  eruption  of  a  new  army  upon  a  losing  field. 

"  And  suppose  your  unknown  foe  is  powerful  enough 
to  swallow  down  that  final,  splendid  asset  and  clamor  for 
more  ?  "  Bascom  queried. 

Francis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Then  I  shall  be  broke.  But  my  father  went  broke 
half  a  dozen  times  before  he  won  out.  Also  was  he  born 
broke.  I  should  worry  about  a  little  thing  like  that." 

For  a  time,  in  the  Solano  hacienda,  events  had  been 
moving  slowly.  In  fact,  following  upon  the  rescue  of 
Leoncia  by  Henry  along  his  dynamite-sown  trail,  there 
had  been  no  events.  Not  even  had  Yi  Poon  appeared 
with  a  perfectly  fresh  and  entirely  brand-new  secret  to 


33°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

sell.  Nothing  had  happened,  save  that  Leoncia  drooped 
and  was  apathetic,  that  neither  Enrico  nor  Henry,  her 
full  brother,  nor  her  Solano  brothers  who  were  not  her 
brothers  at  all,  could  cheer  her. 

But,  while  Leoncia  drooped,  Henry  and  the  tall  sons 
of  Enrico  worried  and  perplexed  themselves  about  the 
treasure  in  the  Valley  of  the  Lost  Souls,  into  which  Torres 
was  even  then  dynamiting  his  way.  One  thing  they  did 
know,  namely,  that  the  Torres  expedition  had  sent  Augus- 
tino  and  Vicente  back  to  San  Antonio  to  get  two  more 
mule-loads  of  dynamite. 

It  was  Henry,  after  conferring  with  Enrico  and  ob 
taining  his  permission,  who  broached  the  matter  to 
Leoncia. 

"  Sweet  sister,"  had  been  his  way,  "  we're  going  to  go 
up  and  see  what  the  scoundrel  Torres  and  his  gang  are 
doing.  We  do  know,  thanks  to  you,  their  objective.  The 
dynamite  is  to  blow  an  entrance  into  the  Valley.  We 
know  where  the  Lady  Who  Dreams  sank  her  treasure 
when  her  house  burned.  Torres  does  not  know  this. 
The  idea  is  that  we  can  follow  them  into  the  Valley,  when 
they  have  drained  the  Maya  caves,  and  have  as  good  a 
chance  if  not  a  better  chance  than  they  in  getting  posses 
sion  of  this  marvelous  chest  of  gems.  And  the  very  tip 
of  the  point  is  that  we'd  like  to  take  you  along  on  the 
expedition.  I  fancy,  if  we  managed  to  get  the  treasure 
ourselves,  that  you  wouldn't  mind  repeating  that  journey 
down  the  subterranean  river." 

But  Leoncia  shook  her  head  wearily. 

"  No,"  she  said,  after  further  urging.  "  I  never  want 
to  see  the  Valley  of  the  Lost  Souls  again,  nor  ever  to  hear 
it  mentioned.  That  is  where  I  lost  Francis  to  that 
woman." 

"  It  was  all  a  mistake,  darling  sister.  But  who  was  to 
know  ?  I  did  not.  You  did  not.  Nor  did  Francis.  He 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  331 

played  the  man's  part  fairly  and  squarely.  Not  knowing 
that  you  and  I  were  brother  and  sister,  believing  that  we 
were  truly  betrothed  —  as  we  were  at  the  time  —  he  re 
frained  from  trying  to  win  you  from  me,  and  he  ren 
dered  further  temptation  impossible  and  saved  the  lives 
of  all  of  us  by  marrying  the  Queen." 

"  I  miss  you  and  Francis  singing  your  everlasting 
1  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast/  "  she  murmured 
sadly  and  irrelevantly. 

Quiet  tears  welled  into  her  eyes  and  brimmed  over  as 
she  turned  away,  passed  down  the  steps  of  the  veranda, 
crossed  the  grounds,  and  aimlessly  descended  the  hill. 
For  the  twentieth  time  since  she  had  last  seen  Francis  she 
pursued  the  same  course,  covering  the  same  ground  from 
the  time  she  first  espied  him  rowing  to  the  beach  from  the 
Ang clique,  through  her  dragging  him  into  the  jungle  to 
save  him  from  her  irate  men-folk,  to  the  moment,  with 
drawn  revolver,  when  she  had  kissed  him  and  urged  him 
into  the  boat  and  away.  This  had  been  his  first  visit. 

Next,  she  covered  every  detail  of  his  second  visit  from 
the  moment,  coming  from  behind  the  rock  after  her  swim 
in  the  lagoon,  she  had  gazed  upon  him  leaning  against  the 
rock  as  he  scribbled  his  first  note  to  her,  through  her 
startled  flight  into  the  jungle,  the  bite  on  her  knee  of  the 
labarri  (which  she  had  mistaken  for  a  deadly  viperine), 
to  her  recoiling  collision  against  Francis  and  her  faint  on 
the  sand.  And,  under  her  parasol,  she  sat  down  on  the 
very  spot  where  she  had  fainted  and  come  to,  to  find  him 
preparing  to  suck  the  poison  from  the  wound  which  he 
had  already  excoriated.  As  she  remembered  back,  she 
realized  that  it  had  been  the  pain  of  the  excoriation  which 
brought  her  to  her  senses. 

Deep  she  was  in  the  sweet  recollection  of  how  she  had 
slapped  his  cheek  even  as  his  lips  approached  her  knee, 
blushed  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  laughed  be- 


332  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

cause  her  foot  had  been  made  asleep  by  his  too-efficient 
tourniquet,  turned  white  with  anger  when  he  reminded  her 
that  she  considered  him  the  murderer  of  her  uncle,  and 
repulsed  his  offer  to  untie  the  tourniquet.  So  deep  was 
she  in  such  fond  recollections  of  only  the  other  day  that 
yet  seemed  separated  from  the  present  by  half  a  century, 
such  was  the  wealth  of  episode,  adventure,  and  tender 
passages  which  had  intervened,  that  she  did  not  see  the 
rattletrap  rented  carriage  from  San  Antonio  drive  up  the 
beach  road.  Nor  did  she  see  a  lady,  fashionably  clad  in 
advertisement  that  she  was  from  New  York,  dismiss  the 
carriage  and  proceed  toward  her  on  foot.  This  lady, 
who  was  none  other  than  the  Queen,  Francis'  wife,  like 
wise  sheltered  herself  beneath  a  parasol  from  the  tropic 
sun. 

Standing  directly  behind  Leoncia,  she  did  not  realize 
that  she  had  surprised  the  girl  in  a  moment  of  high  re 
nunciation.  All  that  she  did  know  was  that  she  saw 
Leoncia  draw  from  her  breast  and  gaze  long  at  a  tiny 
photograph.  Over  her  shoulder  the  Queen  made  it  out 
to  be  a  snapshot  of  Francis,  whereupon  her  mad  jealousy 
raged  anew.  A  poniard  flashed  to  her  hand  from  its 
sheath  within  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  The  quickness  of 
this  movement  was  sufficient  to  warn  Leoncia,  who  tilted 
her  parasol  forward  so  as  to  look  up  at  whatever  person 
stood  at  her  back.  Too  utterly  dreary  even  to  feel  sur 
prise,  she  greeted  the  wife  of  Francis  Morgan  as  casually 
as  if  she  had  parted  from  her  an  hour  before.  Even  the 
poniard  failed  to  arouse  in  her  curiosity  or  fear.  Per 
haps,  had  she  displayed  startlement  and  fear,  the  Queen 
might  have  driven  the  steel  home  to  her.  As  it  was,  she 
could  only  cry  out : 

"  You  are  a  vile  woman !     A  vile,  vile  woman !  " 
To  which  Leoncia  merely  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and 
said: 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  333 

'  You  would  better  keep  your  parasol  between  you  and 
the  sun." 

The  Queen  passed  around  in  front  of  her,  facing  her 
and  staring  down  at  her  with  woman's  wrath  compounded 
of  such  jealousy  as  to  be  speechless. 

"  Why?  "  Leoncia  was  the  first  to  speak,  after  a  long 
pause.  "  Why  am  I  a  vile  woman?  " 

"  Because  you  are  a  thief,"  the  Queen  flamed.  "  Be 
cause  you  are  a  stealer  of  men,  yourself  married.  Be 
cause  you  are  unfaithful  to  your  husband  —  in  heart, 
at  least,  since  more  than  that  has  so  far  been  im 
possible." 

"  I  have  no  husband,"  Leoncia  answered  quietly. 

"  Husband  to  be,  then  —  I  thought  you  were  to  be 
married  the  day  of  our  departure." 

"  I  have  no  husband  to  be,"  Leoncia  continued  with 
the  same  quietness. 

So  swiftly  tense  did  the  other  woman  become  that 
Leoncia'  idly  thought  of  her  as  a  tigress. 

"  Henry  Morgan!  "  the  Queen  cried. 

"  He  is  my  brother." 

"  A  word  which  I  have  discovered  is  of  wide  meaning, 
Leoncia  Solano.  In  New  York  there  are  worshipers  at 
certain  altars  who  call  all  men  in  the  world  '  brothers,' 
all  women  'sisters/  ' 

"  His  father  was  my  father,"  Leoncia  explained  with 
patient  explicitness.  "  His  mother  was  my  mother.  We 
are  full  brother  and  sister." 

"And  Francis?"  the  other  queried,  convinced,  with 
sudden  access  of  interest.  "  Are  you,  too,  his  sister?  " 

Leoncia  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  you  do  love  Francis !  "  the  Queen  charged, 
smarting  with  disappointment. 

'  You  have  him,"  said  Leoncia. 

"  No ;  for  you  have  taken  him  from  me." 


334  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Leoncia  slowly  and  sadly  shook  her  head  and  sadly 
gazed  out  over  the  heat-shimmering  surface  of  Chiriqui 
Lagoon. 

After  a  long  lapse  of  silence,  she  said  wearily,  "  Be 
lieve  that.  Believe  anything." 

"  I  divined  it  in  you  from  the  first,"  the  Queen  cried. 
'  You  have  a  strange  power  over  men.  I  am  a  woman 
not  unbeaul^iful.  Since  I  have  been  out  in  the  world  I 
have  watched  the  eyes  of  men  looking  at  me.  I  know  I 
am  not  all  undesirable.  Even  have  the  wretched  males 
of  my  Lost  Valley  with  downcast  eyes  looked  love  at  me. 
One  dared  more  than  look,  and  he  died  for  me,  or  be 
cause  of  me,  and  was  flung  into  the  whirl  of  waters  to 
his  fate.  And  yet  you,  with  this  woman's  power  of 
yours,  strangely  exercise  it  over  my  Francis  so  that  in 
my  very  arms  he  thinks  of  you.  I  know  it!  I  know 
that  even  then  he  thinks  of  you!  " 

Her  last  words  were  the  cry  of  a  passion-stricken  and 
breaking  heart.  And  the  next  moment,  though  very  little 
to  Leoncia's  surprise,  being  too  hopelessly  apathetic  to  be 
surprised  at  anything,  the  Queen  dropped  her  knife  in 
the  sand  and  sank  down,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  surrendered  to  the  weakness  of  hysteric  grief.  Al 
most  idly,  and  quite  mechanically,  Leoncia  put  her  arm 
around  her  and  comforted  her.  For  many  minutes  this 
continued,  when  the  Queen,  growing  more  calm,  spoke 
with  sudden  determination. 

"  I  left  Francis  the  moment  I  knew  he  loved  you,"  she 
said.  "  I  drove  my  knife  into  the  photograph  of  you  he 
keeps  in  his  bedroom,  and  returned  here  to  do  the  same  to 
you  in  person.  But  I  was  wrong.  It  is  not  your  fault, 
nor  Francis1.  It  is  my  fault  that  I  have  failed  to  win 
his  love.  Not  you,  but  I  it  is  who  must  die.  But  first, 
I  must  go  back  to  my  valley  and  recover  my  treasure. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  335 

In  the  temple  called  Wall  Street,  Francis  is  in  great 
trouble.  His  fortune  may  be  taken  away  from  him,  and 
he  requires  another  fortune  to  save  his  fortune.  I  have 
that  fortune,  and  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  Will  you  and 
yours  help  me?  It  is  for  Francis'  sake." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

So  it  came  about  that  the  Valley  of  the  Lost  Souls  was 
invaded  subterraneanly  from  opposite  directions  by  two 
parties  of  treasure-seekers.  From  one  side,  and  quickly, 
came  the  Queen  and  Leoncia,  Henry  Morgan,  and  the 
Solanos.  Far  more  slowly,  although  they  had  started 
long  in  advance,  did  Torres  and  the  Jefe  progress.  The 
first  attack  on  the  mountain  had  proved  the  chiefest  ob 
stacle.  To  blow  open  an  entrance  to  the  Maya  caves  had 
required  more  dynamite  than  they  had  originally  brought, 
while  the  rocks  had  proved  stubborner  than  they  expected. 
Further,  when  they  had  finally  made  a  way,  it  had  proved 
to  be  above  the  cave  floor,  so  that  more  blasting  had  been 
required  to  drain  off  the  water.  And,  having  blasted 
their  way  into  the  water-logged  mummies  of  the  con- 
quistadores  and  to  the  .Room  of  the  Idols,  they  had  to 
blast  their  way  out  again  and  on  into  the  heart  of  the 
mountain.  But  first,  ere  they  continued  on,  Torres  looted 
the  ruby  eyes  of  Chia  and  the  emerald  eyes  of  Hzatzl. 

Meanwhile,  with  scarcely  any  delays,  the  Queen  and 
her  party  penetrated  to  the  Valley  through  the  mountain 
on  the  opposite  side.  Nor  did  they  entirely  duplicate  the 
course  of  their  earlier  traverse.  The  Queen,  through  long 
gazing  into  her  Mirror,  knew  every  inch  of  the  way. 
Where  the  underground  river  plunged  through  the  pass 
age  and  out  into  the  bosom  of  the  Gualaca  River  it  was 
impossible  to  take  in  their  boats.  But,  by  assiduous 
search  under  her  directions,  they  found  the  tiny  mouth 
of  a  cave  on  the  steep  wall  of  the  cliff,  so  shielded  by  a 
growth  of  mountain  berries  that  only  by  knowing  for 
what  they  sought  could  they  have  found  it.  By  main 

336 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  337 

strength,  applied  to  the  coils  of  rope  which  they  had 
brought  along,  they  hoisted  their  canoes  up  the  cliff, 
portaged  them  on  their  shoulders  through  the  winding 
passage,  and  launched  them  on  the  subterranean  river 
itself  where  it  ran  so  broadly  and  placidly  between  wide 
banks  that  they  paddled  easily  against  its  slack  current. 
At  other  times,  where  the  river  proved  too  swift,  they 
lined  the  canoes  up  by  towing  from  the  bank ;  and 
wherever  the  river  made  a  plunge  through  the  solid  tie- 
ribs  of  mountain,  the  Queen  showed  them  the  obviously 
hewn  and  patently  ancient  passages  through  which  to 
portage  their  light  crafts  around. 

"  Here  we  leave  the  canoes,"  the  Queen  directed  at 
last,  and  the  men  began  securely  mooring  them  to  the 
bank  in  the  light  of  the  flickering  torches.  "  It  is  but  a 
short  distance  through  the  last  passage.  Then  we  will 
come  to  a  small  opening  in  the  cliff,  shielded  by  climbing 
vines  and  ferns,  and  look  down  upon  the  spot  where  my 
house  once  stood  beside  the  whirl  of  waters.  The  ropes 
will  be  necessary  in  order  to  descend  the  cliff,  but  it  is 
only  about  fifty  feet." 

Henry,  with  an  electric  torch,  led  the  way,  the  Queen 
beside  him,  while  old  Enrico  and  Leoncia  brought  up  the 
rear,  vigilant  to  see  that  no  possible  half-hearted  peon  or 
Indian  boatman  should  slip  back  and  run  away.  But 
when  the  party  came  to  where  the  mouth  of  the  passage 
ought  to  have  been,  there  was  no  mouth.  The  passage 
ceased,  being  blocked  off  solidly  from  floor  to  roof  by  a 
debris'  of  crumbled  rocks  that  varied  in  size  from  paving 
stones  to  native  houses. 

"  Who  could  have  done  this?"  the  Queen  exclaimed 
angrily. 

But  Henry,  after  a  cursory  examination,  reassured  her. 

"  It's  just  a  slide  of  rock,"  he  said,  "  a  superficial  fault 
in  the  outer  skin  of  the  mountain  that  has  slipped;  and  it 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

won't  take  us  long  with  our  dynamite  to  remedy  it. 
Lucky  we  fetched  a  supply  along." 

But  it  did  take  long.  For  what  was  the  remainder  of 
the  day  and  throughout  the  night  they  toiled.  Large 
charges  of  explosive  were  not  used  because  of  Henry's 
fear  of  exciting  a  greater  slip  along  the  fault  overhead. 
What  dynamite  was  used  was  for  the  purpose  of  loosening 
up  the  rubble  so  that  they  could  shift  it  back  along  the 
passage.  At  eight  the  following  morning  the  charge  was 
exploded  that  opened  up  to  them  the  first  glimmer  of  day 
light  ahead.  After  that  they  worked  carefully,  being  ap 
prehensive  of  jarring  down  fresh  slides.  At  the  last, 
they  were  baffled  by  a  ten-ton  block  of  rock  in  the  very 
mouth  of  the  passage.  Through  crevices  on  either  side 
of  it  they  could  squeeze  their  arms  into  the  blazing  sun 
shine,  yet  the  stone-block  thwarted  them.  No  leverage 
they  applied  could  more  than  quiver  it,  and  Henry  de 
cided  on  one  final  blast  that  would  topple  it  out  and  down 
into  the  Valley. 

"  They'll  certainly  know  visitors  are  coming,  the  way 
we've  been  knocking  on  their  back  door  for  the  last  fif 
teen  hours,"  he  laughed,  as  he  prepared  to  light  the  fuse. 

Assembled  before  the  altar  of  the  Sun  God  at  the  Long 
House,  the  entire  population  was  indeed  aware,  and 
anxiously  aware,  of  the  coming  of  visitors.  So  disas 
trous  had  been  their  experiences  with  their  last  ones,  when 
the  lake  dwelling  had  been  burned  and  their  Queen  lost 
to  them,  that  they  were  now  begging  the  Sun  God  to  send 
no  more  visitors.  But  upon  one  thing,  having  been  pas 
sionately  harangued  by  their  priest,  they  were  resolved ; 
namely,  to  kill  at  sight  and  without  parley  whatever  new 
comers  did  descend  upon  them. 

"  Even  Da  Vasco  himself,"  the  priest  had  cried. 

"  Even  Da  Vasco !  "  the  Lost  Souls  had  responded. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  339 

All  were  armed  with  spears,  war-clubs,  and  bows  and 
arrows ;  and  while  they  waited  they  continued  to  pray  be 
fore  the  altar.  Every  few  minutes  runners  arrived  from 
the  lake,  making  the  same  reports  that  while  the  moun 
tain  still  labored  thunderously  nothing  had  emerged 
from  it. 

The  little  girl  of  ten,  the  Maid  of  the  Long  House  who 
had  entertained  Leoncia,  was  the  first  to  spy  out  new 
arrivals.  This  was  made  possible  because  of  the  tribe's 
attention  being  fixed  on  the  rumbling  mountain  beside 
the  lake.  No  one  expected  visitors  out  of  the  mountain 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley. 

"  Da  Vasco !  "  she  cried.     "  Da  Vasco !  " 

All  looked  and  saw,  not  fifty  yards  away,  Torres,  the 
Jefe,  and  their  gang  of  followers,  emerging  into  the  open 
clearing.  Torres  wore  again  the  helmet  he  had  filched 
from  his  withered  ancestor  in  the  Chamber  of  the  Mum 
mies.  Their  greeting  was  instant  and  warm,  taking  the 
form  of  a  flight  of  arrows  that  arched  into  them  and 
stretched  two  of  the  followers  on  the  ground.  Next,  the 
Lost  Souls,  men  and  women,  charged;  while  the  rifles  of 
Torres'  men  began  to  speak.  So  unexpected  was  this 
charge,  so  swiftly  made  and  with  so  short  a  distance  to 
cover,  that,  though  many  fell  before  the  bullets,  a  num 
ber  reached  the  invaders  and  engaged  in  a  desperate  hand- 
to-hand  conflict.  Here  the  advantage  of  firearms  was 
minimized,  and  gendarmes  and  others  were  thrust  by 
spears  or  had  their  skulls  cracked  under  the  ponderous 
clubs. 

In  the  end,  however,  the  Lost  Souls  were  outfought, 
thanks  chiefly  to  the  revolvers  that  could  kill  in  the 
thickest  of  the  scuffling.  The  survivors  fled,  but  of  the 
invaders  half  were  down  and  down  forever,  the  women 
having  in  drastic  fashion  attended  to  every  man  who  fell 
wounded.  The  Jefe  was  spluttering  with  pain  and  rage 


34°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

at  an  arrow  which  had  perforated  his  arm ;  nor  could  he 
he  appeased  until  Vicente  cut  off  the  barbed  head  and 
pulled  out  the  shaft. 

Torres,  beyond  an  aching  shoulder  where  a  club  had 
hit  him,  was  uninjured ;  and  he  became  jubilant  when  he 
saw  the  old  priest  dying  on  the  ground  with  his  head 
resting  on  the  little  maid's  knees. 

Since  there  were  no  wounded  of  their  own  to  be  at 
tended  to  with  rough  and  ready  surgery,  Torres  and  the 
Jefe  led  the  way  to  the  lake,  skirted  its  shores,  and  came 
to  the  ruins  of  the  Queen's  dwelling.  Only  charred 
stumps  of  piles,  projecting  above  the  water,  showed  where 
it  had  once  stood.  Torres  was  nonplused,  but  the  Jefe 
was  furious. 

"  Here,  right  in  this  house  that  was,  the  treasure  chest 
stood/'  Torres  stammered. 

"  A  wild  goose  chase !  "  the  Jefe  grunted.  "  Sefior 
Torres,  I  always. suspected  you  were  a  fool." 

"  How  was  I  to  know  the  place  had  been  burned 
down  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  have  known,  you  who  are  so  very  wise 
in  all  things,"  the  Jefe  bickered  back.  "  But  you  can't 
fool  me.  I  had  my  eye  on  you.  I  saw  you  rob 
the  emeralds  and  rubies  from  the  eye-sockets  of  the 
Maya  gods.  That  much  you  shall  divide  with  me,  and 
now." 

"  Wait,  wait,  be  a  trifle  patient,"  Torres  begged.  "  Let 
us  first  investigate.  Of  course  I  shall  divide  the  four 
gems  with  you  —  but  what  are  they  compared  with  a 
whole  chest-full?  It  was  a  light,  fragile  house.  The 
chest  may  have  fallen  into  the  water  undamaged  by  fire 
when  the  roof  fell  in.  And  water  will  not  damage 
precious  stones." 

In  amongst  the  burnt  piling  the  Jefe  sent  his  men  to 
investigate,  and  they  waded  and  swam  about  in  the  shoal 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  341 

water,  being  careful  to  avoid  being  caught  by  the  outlying 
suck  of  the  whirlpool.  Augustino,  the  Silent,  made  the 
find,  close  in  to  shore. 

"  I  am  standing  on  something,"  he  announced,  the  level 
of  the  lake  barely  to  his  knees. 

Torres  plunged  in,  and,  reaching  under  till  he  buried 
his  head  and  shoulders,  felt  out  the  object. 

"  It  is  the  chest,  I  am  certain,"  he  declared.  " —  Come ! 
All  of  you!  Drag  this  out  to  the  dry  land  so  that  we 
may  examine  into  it!  " 

But  when  this  was  accomplished,  and  just  as  he  bent 
to  open  the  lid,  the  Jefe  stopped  him. 

"  Go  back  into  the  water,  the  lot  of  you,"  he  com 
manded  his  men.  "  There  are  a  number  of  chests  like 
this,  and  the  expedition  will  be  a  failure  if  we  don't  find 
them.  One  chest  will  not  pay  the  expenses." 

Not  until  all  the  men  were  floundering  and  groping  in 
the  water,  did  Torres  raise  the  lid.  The  Jefe  stood 
transfixed.  He  could  only  gaze  and  mutter  inarticulate 
mouthings. 

"Now  will  you  believe?"  Torres  queried.  "It  is 
beyond  price.  We  are  the  richest  two  men  in  Panama, 
in  South  America,  in  the  world.  This  is  the  Maya 
treasure.  We  heard  of  it  when  we  were  boys.  Our 
fathers  and  our  grandfathers  dreamed  of  it.  The  con- 
quistadores  failed  to  find  it.  And  it  is  ours  —  ours !  " 

And,  while  the  two  men,  almost  stupefied,  stood  and 
stared,  one  by  one  their  followers  crept  out  of  the  water, 
formed  a  silent  semi-circle  at  their  backs,  and  likewise 
stared.  Neither  did  the  Jefe  and  Torres  know  their  men 
stood  at  their  backs,  nor  did  the  men  know  of  the  Lost 
Souls  that  were  creeping  stealthily  upon  them  from  the 
rear.  As  it  was,  all  were  staring  at  the  treasure  with 
fascinated  amazement  when  the  attack  was  sprung. 

Bows  and  arrows,  at  ten  yards  distance,  are  deadly, 


342  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

especially  when  due  time  is  taken  to  make  certain  of  aim. 
Two-thirds  of  the  treasure-seekers  went  down  simultane 
ously.  Through  Vicente,  who  had  chanced  to  be  stand 
ing  directly  behind  Torres,  no  less  than  two  spears  and 
five  arrows  had  perforated.  The  handful  of  survivors 
had  barely  time  to  seize  their  rifles  and  whirl,  when  the 
club  attack  was  upon  them.  In  this  Rafael  and  Ignacio, 
two  of  the  gendarmes  who  had  been  on  the  adventure  to 
the  Juchitan  oil  fields,  almost  immediately  had  their  skulls 
cracked.  And,  as  usual,  the  Lost  Souls  women  saw  to 
it  that  the  wounded  did  not  remain  wounded  long. 

The  end  for  Torres  and  the  Jefe  was  but  a  matter  of 
moments,  when  a  loud  roar  from  the  mountain,  followed 
by  a  crashing  avalanche  of  rock,  created  a  diversion.  The 
few  Lost  Souls  that  remained  alive  darted  back  terror- 
stricken  into  the  shelter  of  the  bushes.  The  Jefe  and 
Torres,  who  alone  stood  on  their  feet  and  breathed,  cast 
their  eyes  up  the  cliff  to  where  the  smoke  still  issued  from 
the  new-made  hole,  and  saw  Henry  Morgan  and  the 
Queen  step  into  the  sunshine  on  the  lip  of  the  cliff. 

"  You  take  the  lady,"  the  Jefe  snarled.  "  I  shall  get 
the  Gringo  Morgan  if  it's  the  last  act  of  what  seems  a 
life  that  isn't  going  to  be  much  longer." 

Both  lifted  their  rifles  and  fired.  Torres,  never  much 
of  a  shot,  se'nd  his  bullet  fairly  centered  into  the  Queen's 
breast.  But  the  Jefe,  master  marksman  and  possessor 
of  many  medals,  made  a  clean  miss  of  his  target.  The 
next  instant,  a  bullet  from  Henry's  rifle  struck  his  wrist 
and  traveled  up  the  forearm  to  the  elbow,  whence  it 
escaped  and  passed  on.  And  as  his  rifle  clattered  to  the 
ground  he  knew  that  never  again  would  that  right  arm, 
its  bone  pulped  from  wrist  to  elbow,  have  use  for  a  rifle. 

But  Henry  was  not  shooting  well.  Just  emerged  from 
twenty-four  hours  of  darkness  in  the  cave,  not  at  once 
could  his  eyes  adjust  themselves  to  the  blinding  dazzle 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  343 

of  the  sun.  His  first  shot  had  been  lucky.  His  suc 
ceeding  shots  merely  struck  in  the  immediate  neighbor 
hood  of  the  Jefe  and  Torres  as  they  turned  and  fled 
madly  for  the  brush. 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  wounded  Jefe  in  the  lead,  Torres 
saw  a  woman  of  the  Lost  Souls  spring  out  from  behind 
a  tree  and  brain  him  with  a  huge  stone  wielded  in  both 
her  hands.  Torres  shot  her  first,  then  crossed  himself 
with  horror,  and  stumbled  on.  From  behind  arose  dis 
tant  calls  of  Henry  and  the  Solano  brothers  in  pursuit, 
and  he  remembered  the  vision  of  his  end  he  had  glimpsed 
but  refused  to  see  in  the  Mirror  of  the  World  and  won 
dered  if  this  end  was  near  upon  him.  Yet  it  had  not 
resembled  this  place  of  trees  and  ferns  and  jungle.  From 
the  glimpse  he  remembered  nothing  of  vegetation  - 
only  solid  rock  and  blazing  sun  and  bones  of  animals. 
Hope  sprang  up  afresh  at  the  thought.  Perhaps  that  end 
was  not  for  this  day,  maybe  not  for  this  year.  Who 
knew?  Twenty  years  might  yet  pass  ere  that  end  came. 

Emerging  from  the  jungle,  he  came  upon  a  queer  ridge 
of  what  looked  like  long  disintegrated  lava  rock.  Here 
he  left  no  trail,  and  he  proceeded  carefully  on  beyond  it 
through  further  jungle,  believing  once  again  in  his  star 
that  would  enable  him  to  elude  pursuit.  His  plan  of 
escape  took  shape.  He  would  find  a  safe  hiding  place 
until  after  dark.  Then  he  would  circle  back  to  the  lake 
and  the  whirl  of  waters.  That  gained,  nothing  and  no 
body  could  stop  him.  He  had  but  to  leap  in.  The  sub 
terranean  journey  had  no  terrors  for  him  because  he  had 
done  it  before.  And  in  his  fancy  he  saw  once  more  the 
pleasant  picture  of  the  Gualaca  River  flashing  under  the 
open  sky  on  its  way  to  the  sea.  Besides,  did  he  not  carry 
with  him  the  two  great  emeralds  and  two  great  rubies 
that  had  been  the  eyes  of  Chia  and  Hzatzl?  Fortune 


344  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

enough,  and  vast  good  fortune,  were  they  for  any  man. 
What  if  he  had  failed  by  the  Maya  Treasure  to  become 
the  richest  man  in  the  world?  He  was  satisfied.  All 
he  wanted  now  was  darkness  and  one  last  dive  into  the 
heart  of  the  mountain  and  through  the  heart  of  the  moun 
tain  to  the  Gualaca  flowing  to  the  sea. 

And  just  then,  the  assured  vision  of  his  escape  so 
vividly  filling  his  eyes  that  he  failed  to  observe  the  way 
of  his  feet,  he  dived.  Nor  was  it  a  dive  into  swirling 
waters.  It  was  a  head-foremost,  dry-land  dive  down  a 
slope  of  rock.  So  slippery  was  it  that  he  continued  to 
slide  down,  although  he  managed  to  turn  around,  with 
face  and  stomach  to  the  surface,  and  to  claw  wildly  up 
with  hands  and  feet.  Such  effort  merely  slowed  his 
descent,  but  could  not  stop  it. 

For  a  while,  at  the  bottom,  he  lay  breathless  and  dazed. 
When  his  senses  came  back  to  him,  he  became  aware  first 
of  all  of  something  unusual  upon  which  his  hand  rested. 
He  could  have  sworn  that  he  felt  teeth.  At  length,  open 
ing  his  eyes  with  a  shudder  and  summoning  his  resolu 
tion,  he  dared  to  look  at  the  object.  And  relief  was  im 
mediate.  Teeth  they  were,  in  an  indubitable,  weather- 
white,  jaw-bone;  but  they  were  pig's  teeth  and  the  jaw 
was  a  pig's  jaw.  Other  bones  lay  about,  on  which  his 
body  rested,  which,  on  examination,  proved  to  be  the 
bones  of  pigs  and  of  smaller  animals. 

Where  had  he  glimpsed  such  an  arrangement  of  bones? 
He  thought,  and  remembered  the  Queen's  great  golden 
bowl.  He  looked  up.  Ah!  Mother  of  God!  The  very 
place!  He  knew  it  at  first  sight,  as  he  gazed  up  what 
was  a  funnel  at  the  far  spectacle  of  day.  Fully  two  hun 
dred  feet  above  him  was  the  rim  of  the  funnel.  The 
sides  of  hard,  smooth  rock  sloped  steeply  in  and  down  to 
him,  and  his  eyes  and  judgment  told  him  that  no  man 
born  of  woman  could  ever  scale  that  slope. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  345 

The  fancy  that  came  to  his  mind  caused  him  to  spring 
to  his  feet  in  sudden  panic  and  look  hastily  round  about 
him.  Only  on  a  more  colossal  scale,  the  funnel  in  which 
he  was  trapped  had  reminded  him  of  the  funnel-pits  dug 
in  the  sand  by  hunting  spiders  that  lurked  at  the  bottom 
for  such  prey  as  tumbled  in^upon  them.  And,  his  vivid 
fancy  leaping,  he  had  been  frightened  by  the  thought  that 
some  spider  monster,  as  colossal  as  the  funnel-pit,  might 
possibly  be  lurking  there  to  devour  him.  But  no  such 
denizen  occurred.  The  bottom  of  the  pit,  circular  in 
form,  was  a  good  ten  feet  across  and  carpeted,  he  knew 
not  how  deep,  by  a  debris  of  small  animals'  bones.  Now 
for  what  had  the  Mayas  of  old  time  made  so  tremendous 
an  excavation?  he  questioned;  for  he  was  more  than  half- 
convinced  that  the  funnel  was  no  natural  phenomenon. 

Before  nightfall  he  made  sure,  by  a  dozen  attempts, 
that  the  funnel  was  unscalable.  Between  attempts,  he 
crouched  in  the  growing  shadow  of  the  descending  sun 
and  panted  dry-lipped  with  heat  and  thirst.  The  place 
was  a  very  furnace,  and  the  juices  of  his  body  were  wrung 
from  him  in  profuse  perspiration.  Throughout  the  night, 
between  dozes,  he  vainly  pondered  the  problem  of  escape. 
The  only  way  out  was  up,  nor  could  his  mind  devise  any 
method  of  getting  up.  Also,  he  looked  forward  with 
terror  to  the  coming  of  the  day,  for  he  knew  that  no  man 
could  survive  a  full  ten  hours  of  the  baking  heat  that 
would  be  his.  Ere  the  next  nightfall  the  last  drop  of 
moisture  would  have  evaporated  from  his  body  leaving 
him  a  withered  and  already  half -sun-dried  mummy. 

With  the  coming  of  daylight  his  growing  terror  added 
wings  to  his  thought,  and  he  achieved  a  new  and  pro 
foundly  simple  theory  of  escape.  Since  he  could  not 
climb  up,  and  since  he  could  not  get  out  through  the  sides 
themselves,  then  the  only  possible  remaining  way  was 
down.  Fool  that  he  was !  He  might  have  been  working 


34-6  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

through  the  cool  night  hours,  and  now  he  must  labor  in 
the  quickly  increasing  heat.  He  applied  himself  in  an 
ecstasy  of  energy  to  digging  down  through  the  mass  of 
crumbling  bones.  Of  course,  there  was  a  way  out.  Else 
how  did  the  funnel  drain  ?  Otherwise  it  would  have  been 
full  or  part  full  of  water  from  the  rains.  Fool!  And 
thrice  times  thrice  a  fool ! 

He  dug  down  one  side  of  the  wall,  flinging  the  rubbish 
into  a  mound  against  the  opposite  side.  So  desperately 
did  he  apply  himself  that  he  broke  his  finger-nails  to  the 
quick  and  deeper,  while  every  finger-tip  was  lacerated  to 
bleeding.  But  love  of  life  was  strong  in  him,  and  he 
knew  it  was  a  life-and-death  race  with  the  sun.  As  he 
went  deeper,  the  rubbish  became  more  compact,  so  that 
he  used  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  like  a  crowbar  to  loosen 
it,  ere  tossing  it  up  in  single  and  double  handfuls. 

By  mid-forenoon,  his  senses  beginning  to  reel  in  the 
heat,  he  made  a  discovery.  Upon  the  wall  which  he  had 
uncovered,  he  came  upon  the  beginning  of  an  inscription, 
evidently  rudely  scratched  in  the  rock  by  the  point  of  a 
knife.  With  renewed  hope,  his  head  and  shoulders  down 
in  the  hole,  he  dug  and  scratched  for  all  the  world  like  a 
dog,  throwing  the  rubbish  out  and  between  his  legs  in 
true  dog-fashion.  Some  of  it  fell  clear,  but  most  of  it 
fell  back  and  down  upon  him.  Yet  had  he  become  too 
frantic  to  note  the  inefficiency  of  his  effort. 

At  last  the  inscription  was  cleared,  so  that  he  was  able 
to  read: 

Peter  McGill,  of  Glasgow.  On  March  12,  1820.  I  escaped 
from  the  Pit  of  Hell  by  this  passage  by  digging  down  and 
finding  it. 

A  passage !  The  passage  must  be  beneath  the  inscrip 
tion!  Torres  now  toiled  in  a  fury.  So  dirt-soiled  was 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  347 

he  that  he  was  like  some  huge,  four-legged,  earth-burrow 
ing  animal.  The  dirt  got  into  his  eyes,  and,  on  occasion, 
into  his  nostrils  and  air  pasages  so  as  to  suffocate  him 
and  compel  him  to  back  up  out  of  the  hole  and  sneeze  and 
cough  his  breathing  apparatus  clear.  Twice  he  fainted. 
But  the  sun,  by  then  almost  directly  overhead,  drove  him 
on. 

He  found  the  upper  rim  of  the  passage.  He  did  not 
dig  down  to  the  lower  rim ;  for  the  moment  the  aperture 
was  large  enough  to  accommodate  his  lean  shape,  he 
writhed  and  squirmed  into  it  and  away  from  the  destroy 
ing  sun-rays.  The  cool  and  the  dark  soothed  him,  but 
his  joy  and  the  reaction  from  what  he  had  undergone  sent 
his  pulse  giddily  up,  so  that  for  the  third  time  he  fainted. 

Recovered,  mouthing  with  black  and  swollen  lips  a  half- 
insane  chant  of  gratefulness  and  thanksgiving,  he  crawled 
on  along  the  passage.  Perforce  he  crawled,  because  it 
was  so  low  that  a  dwarf  could  not  have  stood  erect  in  it. 
The  place  was  a  charnel  house.  Bones  crunched  and 
crumbled  under  his  hands  and  knees,  and  he  knew  that 
his  knees  were  being  worn  to  the  bone.  At  the  end  of  a 
hundred  feet  he  caught  his  first  glimmering  of  light.  But 
the  nearer  he  approached  freedom,  the  slower  he  pro 
gressed,  for  the  final  stages  of  exhaustion  were  coming 
upon  him.  He  knew  that  it  was  not  physical  exhaustion, 
nor  food  exhaustion,  but  thirst  exhaustion.  Water,  a 
few  ounces  of  water,  was  all  he  needed  to  make  him 
strong  again.  And  there  was  no  water. 

But  the  light  was  growing  stronger  and  nearer.  He 
noted,  toward  the  last,  that  the  floor  of  the  passage  pitched 
down  at  an  angle  of  fully  thirty  degrees.  This  made  the 
way  easier.  Gravity  drew  him  on,  and  helped  every  fail 
ing  effort  of  him  toward  the  source  of  light.  Very  close 
to  it,  he  encountered  an  increase  in  the  deposit  of  bones. 


34^  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Yet  they  bothered  him  little,  for  they  had  become  an 
old  story,  while  he  was  too  exhausted  to  mind  them. 

He  did  observe,  with  swimming  eyes  and  increasing 
numbness  of  touch,  that  the  passage  was  contracting  both 
vertically  and  horizontally.  Slanting  downward  at  thirty 
degrees,  it  gave  him  an  impression  of  a  rat-trap,  himself 
the  rat,  descending  head-foremost  toward  he  knew  not 
what.  Even  before  he  reached  it,  he  apprehended  that 
the  slit  of  bright  day  that  advertised  the  open  world  be 
yond  was  too  narrow  for  the  egress  of  his  body.  And 
his  apprehension  was  verified.  Crawling  unconcernedly 
over  a  skeleton  that  the  blaze  of  day  showed  him  to  be  a 
man's,  he  managed,  by  severely  and  painfully  squeezing 
his  ears  flat  back,  to  thrust  his  head  through  the  slitted 
aperture.  The  sun  beat  down  upon  his  head,  while  his 
eyes  drank  in  the  openness  of  the  freedom  of  the  world 
that  the  unyielding  rock  denied  to  the  rest  of  his  body. 

Most  maddening  of  all  was  a  running  stream  not  a 
hundred  yards  away,  tree-fringed  beyond,  with  lush 
meadow-grass  leading  down  to  it  from  his  side.  And  in 
the  tree-shadowed  water,  knee-deep  and  drowsing,  stood 
several  cows  of  the  dwarf  breed  peculiar  to  the  Valley  of 
Lost  Souls.  Occasionally  they  flicked  their  tails  lazily  at 
flies,  or  changed  the  distribution  of  their  weight  on  their 
legs.  He  glared  at  them  to  see  them  drink,  but  they  were 
evidently  too  sated  with  water.  Fools!  Why  should 
they  not  drink,  with  all  that  wealth  of  water  flowing  idly 
by! 

They  betrayed  alertness,  turning  their  heads  toward 
the  far  bank  and  pricking  their  ears  forward.  Then,  as 
a  big  antlered  buck  came  out  from  among  the  trees  to 
the  water's  edge,  they  flattened  their  ears  back  and  shook 
their  heads  and  pawed  the  water  till  he  could  hear  the 
splashing.  But  the  stag  disdained  their  threats,  lowered 
his  head,  and  drank.  This  was  too  much  for  Torres,  who 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  349 

emitted  a  maniacal  scream  which,  had  he  been  in  his 
senses,  he  would  not  have  recognized  as  proceeding  from 
his  own  throat  and  larynx. 

The  stag  sprang  away.  The  cattle  turned  their  heads 
in  Torres'  direction,  drowsed  their  eyes  shut,  and  re 
sumed  the  flicking  of  flies.  With  a  violent  effort,  scarcely 
knowing  that  he  had  half-torn  off  his  ears,  he  drew  his 
head  back  through  the  slitted  aperture  and  fainted  on  top 
of  the  skeleton. 

Two  hours  later,  though  he  did  not  know  the  passage 
of  time,  he  regained  consciousness,  and  found  his  own 
head  cheek  by  jowl  with  the  skull  of  the  skeleton  on  which 
he  lay.  The  descending  sun  was  already  shining  into 
the  narrow  opening,  and  his  gaze  chanced  upon  a  rusty 
knife.  The  point  of  it  was  worn  and  broken,  and  he  es 
tablished  the  connection.  This  was  the  knife  that  had 
scratched  the  inscription  on  the  rock  at  the  base  of  the 
funnel  at  the  other  end  of  the  passage,  and  this  skeleton 
was  the  bony  framework  of  the  man  who  had  done  the 
scratching.  And  Alvarez  Torres  went  immediately  mad. 

"  Ah,  Peter  McGill,  my  enemy,"  he  muttered.  "  Peter 
McGill  of  Glasgow  who  betrayed  me  to  this  end. —  This 
for  you.  —  And  this !  —  And  this !  " 

So  speaking,  he  drove  the  heavy  knife  into  the  fragile 
front  of  the  skull.  The  dust  of  the  bone  which  had  once 
been  the  tabernacle  of  Peter  McGill's  brain  arose  in  his 
nostrils  and  increased  his  frenzy.  He  attacked  the  skel 
eton  with  his  hands,  tearing  at  it,  disrupting  it,  filling  the 
pent  space  about  him  with  flying  bones.  It  was  like  a 
battle,  in  which  he  destroyed  what  was  left  of  the  mortal 
remains  of  the  one  time  resident  of  Glasgow. 

Once  again  Torres  squeezed  his  head  through  the  slit 
to  gaze  at  the  fading  glory  of  the  world.  Like  a  rat  in 
the  trap,  caught  by  the  neck  in  the  trap  of  ancient  Maya 
devising,  he  saw  the  bright  world  and  day  dim  to  darkness 


35°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

as  his  final  consciousness  drowned  in  the  darkness  of 
death. 

But  still  the  cattle  stood  in  the  water  and  drowsed  and 
flicked  at  flies,  and,  later,  the  stag  returned,  disdainful  of 
the  cattle,  to  complete  its  interrupted  drink. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

NOT  for  nothing  had  Regan  been  named  by  his  asso 
ciates  the  Wolf  of  Wall  Street.  While  usually  no  more 
than  a  conservative,  large-scale  player,  every  so  often, 
like  a  periodical  drinker,  he  had  to  go  on  a  rampage  of 
wild  and  daring  stock-gambling.  At  least  five  times  in 
his  long  career  he  had  knocked  the  bottom  out  of  the 
market  or  lifted  the  roof  off,  and  each  time  to  the  tune 
of  a  personal  gain  of  millions.  He  never  went  on  a  small 
rampage,  and  he  never  went  too  often. 

He  would  let  years  of  quiescence  slip  by,  until  suspicion 
of  him  was  lulled  asleep  and  his  world  deemed  that  the 
Wolf  was  at  last  grown  old  and  peaceable.  And  then, 
like  a  thunderbolt,  he  would  strike  at  the  men  and  interests 
he  wished  to  destroy.  But,  though  the  blow  always  fell 
like  a  thunderbolt,  not  like  a  thunderbolt  was  it  in  its  in 
ception.  Long  months,  and  even  years,  were  spent  in 
deviously  preparing  for  the  day  and  painstakingly  matur 
ing  the  plans  and  conditions  for  the  battle. 

Thus  had  it  been  in  the  outlining  and  working  up  of 
the  impending  Waterloo  for  Francis  Morgan.  Revenge 
lay  back  of  it,  but  it  was  revenge  against  a  dead  man. 
Not  Francis,  but  Francis'  father,  was  the  one  he  struck 
against,  although  he  struck  through  the  living  into  the 
heart  of  the  grave  to  accomplish  it.  Eight  years  he  had 
waitecT  alid  sought  his  chance  ere  old  R.  H.  M. —  Richard 
Henry  Morgan  —  had  died.  But  no  chance  had  he 
found.  He  was,  truly,  the  Wolf  of  Wall  Street,  but 
never  by  any  luck  had  he  found  an  opportunity  against 
the  Lion  —  for  to  his  death  R.  H.  M.  had  been  known  as 
the  Lion  of  Wall  Street. 

351 


352  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

So,  from  father  to  son,  always  under  a  show  of  fair 
appearance,  .Regan  had  carried  the  feud  over.  Yet 
Regan's  very  foundation  on  which  he  built  for  revenge 
was  meretricious  and  wrongly  conceived.  True,  eight 
years  before  R.  H.  M.'s  death,  he  had  tried  to  double- 
cross  him  and  failed ;  but  he  never  dreamed  that  R.  H.  M. 
had  guessed.  Yet  R.  H.  M.  had  not  only  guessed  but  had 
ascertained  beyond  any  shadow  of  doubt,  and  had  prompt 
ly  and  cleverly  double-crossed  his  treacherous  associate. 
Thus,  had  Regan  known  that  R.  H.  M.  knew  of  his 
perfidy,  Regan  would  have  taken  his  medicine  without 
thought  of  revenge.  As  it  was,  believing  that  R.  H.  M. 
was  as  bad  as  himself,  believing  that  R.  H.  M.,  out  of 
meanness  as  mean  as  his  own,  without  provocation  or  sus 
picion,  had  done  this  foul  thing  to  him,  he  saw  no  way  to 
balance  the  account  save  by  ruining  him,  or,  in  lieu  of 
him,  by  ruining  his  son. 

And  Regan  had  taken  his  time.  At  first  Francis  had 
left  the  financial  game  alone,  content  with  letting  his 
money  remain  safely  in  the  safe  investments  into  which 
it  had  been  put  by  his  father.  Not  until  Francis  had 
become  for  the  first  time  active  in  undertaking  Tampico 
Petroleum  to  the  tune  of  millions  of  investment,  with  an 
assured  many  millions  of  ultimate  returns,  had  Regan  had 
the  ghost  of  a  chance  to  destroy  him.  But,  the  chance 
given, e  Regan  had  not  wasted  time,  though  his  slow  and 
thorough  campaign  had  required  many  months  to  de 
velop.  Ere  he  was  done,  he  came  very  close  to  knowing 
every  share  of  whatever  stock  Francis  carried  on  margin 
or  owned  outright. 

It  had  really  taken  two  years  and  more  for  Regan  to 
prepare.  In  some  of  the  corporations  in  which  Francis 
owned  heavily,  Regan  was  himself  a  director  and  no  in 
considerable  arbiter  of  destiny.  In  Frisco  Consolidated 
he  was  president.  In  New  York,  Vermont  and  Connect!- 


HEARTS    OF   THREE  353 

cut  he  was  vice-president.  From  controlling  one  director 
in  Northwestern  Electric,  he  had  played  ^itchen  politics 
until  he  controlled  the  two-thirds  majority.  And  so  with 
all  the  rest,  either  directly,  or  indirectly  through  corpora 
tion  and  banking  ramifications,  he  had  his  hand  in  the 
secret  springs  and  levers  of  the  financial  and  business 
mechanisms  which  gave  strength  to  Francis'  fortune. 

Yet  no  one  of  these  was  more  than  a  bagatelle  com 
pared  with  the  biggest  thing  of  all  -  -  Tampico  Petroleum. 
In  this,  beyond  a  paltry  twenty  thousand  shares  bought 
on  the  open  market,  Regan  owned  nothing,  controlled 
nothing,  though  the  time  was  growing  ripe  for  him  to  sell 
and  deal  and  juggle-  in  inordinate  quantities.  Tampico 
Petroleum  was  practically  Francis'  private  preserve.  A 
number  of  his  friends  were,  for  them,  deeply  involved, 
Mrs.  Carruthers  even  gravely  so.  She  worried  him,  and 
was  not  even  above  pestering  him  over  the  telephone. 
There  were  others,  like  Johnny  Pathmore,  who  never 
bothered  him  at  all,  and  who,  when  they  met,  talked  care 
lessly  and  optimistically  about  the  condition  of  the  market 
and  financial  things  in  general.  All  of  which  was  harder 
for  Francis  to  bear  than  Mrs.  Carruthers'  perpetual 
nervousness. 

Northwestern  Electric,  thanks  to  Regan's  machinations, 
had  actually  dropped  thirty  points  and  remained  there. 
Those  on  the  outside  who  thought  they  knew,  regarded  it 
as  positively  shaky.  Then  there  was  the  little,  old,  solid- 
as-the-rock-of-Gibraltar  Frisco  Consolidated.  The  nas 
tiest  of  rumors  were  afloat,  and  the  talk  of  a  receivership 
was  growing  emphatic.  Montana  Lode  was  still  sickly 
under  Mulhaney's  unflattering  and  unmodified  report,  and 
Weston,  the  great  expert  sent  out  by  the  English  investors, 
had  failed  to  report  anything  reassuring.  For  six 
months,  Imperial  Tungston,  earning  nothing,  had  been 
put  to  disastrous  expense  in  the  great  strike  which  seemed 


354  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

only  just  begun.  Nor  did  anybody,  save  the  several  labor 
leaders  who  knew,  dream  that  it  was  Regan's  gold  that 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  affair. 

The  secrecy  and  the  deadliness  of  the  attack  was  what 
unnerved  Bascom.  All  properties  in  which  Francis  was 
interested,  were  being  pressed  down  as  if  by  slow-moving 
glacier.  There  was  nothing  spectacular  about  the  move 
ment,  merely  a  steady  persistent  decline  that  made  Francis' 
large  fortune  shrink  horribly.  And,  along  with  what  he 
owned  outright,  what  he  held  on  margin  suffered  even 
greater  shrinkage. 

Then  had  come  the  rumors  of  war.  Ambassadors  were 
receiving  their  passports  right  and  left,  and  half  the 
world  seemed  mobilizing.  This  was  the  moment,  with 
the  market  shaken  and  panicky,  and  with  the  world  pow 
ers  delaying  in  declaring  moratoriums,  that  Regan  select 
ed  to  strike.  The  time  was  ripe  for  a  bear  raid,  and  with 
him  were  associated  half  a  dozen  other  big  bears  who 
tacitly  accepted  his  leadership.  But  even  they  did  not 
know  the  full  extent  of  his  plans,  nor  guess  at  the  specific 
direction  of  them.  They  were  in  the  raid  for  what  they 
could  make,  and  thought  he  was  in  it  for  the  same  reason, 
in  their  simple  directness  of  pecuniary  vision  catching  no 
glimpse  of  Francis  Morgan  nor  of  his  ghostly  father  at 
whom  the  big  blow  was  being  struck. 

Regan's  rumor  factory  began  working  overtime,  and 
the  first  to  drop  and  the  fastest  to  drop  in  the  dropping 
market  were  the  stocks  of  Francis,  which  had  already 
done  considerable  dropping  ere  the  bear  market  began. 
Yet  Regan  was  careful  to  bring  no  pressure  on  Tampico 
Petroleum.  Proudly  it  held  up  its  head  in  the  midst  of 
the  general  slump,  and  eagerly  Regan  waited  for  the  mo 
ment  of  desperation  when  Francis  would  be  forced  to 
dump  it  on  the  market  to  cover  his  shrunken  margins  in 
other  lines. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  355 

"Lord!     Lord!" 

Bascom  held  the  side  of  his  face  in  the  palm  of  one 
hand  and  grimaced  as  if  he  had  a  jumping  toothache. 

"  Lord !  Lord !  "  he  reiterated.  "  The  market's  gone 
to  smash  and  Tampico  Pet  along  with  it.  How  she 
slumped !  Who'd  have  dreamed  it !  " 

Francis,  puffing  steadily  away  at  a  cigarette  and  quite 
oblivious  that  it  was  unlighted,  sat  with  Bascom  in  the 
latter's  private  office. 

"  It  looks  like  a  fire-sale,"  he  vouchsafed. 
"  That   won't   last   longer  than   this   time   to-morrow 
morning  —  then  you'll  be  sold  out,  and  me  with  you," 
his  broker  amplified,  with  a  swift  glance  at  the  clock. 

It  marked  twelve,  as  Francis'  swiftly  automatic  glance 
verified. 

"  Dump  in  the  rest  of  Tampico  Pet,"  he  said  wearily. 
"  That  ought  to  hold  back  until  to-morrow." 

"  Then  what  to-morrow  ? "  his  broker  demanded, 
"  with  the  bottom  out  and  everybody  including  the  office 
boys  selling  short." 

Francis  shrugged  his  shoulders.  '  You  know  I've 
mortgaged  the  house,  Dreamwold,  and  the  Adirondack 
Camp  to  the  limit." 

"  Have  you  any  friends?  " 
"  At  such  a  time?  "  Francis  countered  bitterly. 
"  Well,  it's  the  very  time,"  Bascom  retorted.     "  Look 
here,  Morgan.     I  know  the  set  you  ran  with  at  college. 
There's  Johnny  Pathmore  — 

"  And  he's  in  up  to  his  eyes  already.  When  I  smash 
he  smashes.  And  Dave  Donaldson  will  have  to  readjust 
his  life  to  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  a  month.  And 
as  for  Chris  Westhouse,  he'll  have  to  take  to  the  movies 
for  a  livelihood.  He  always  was  good  at  theatricals,  and 
I  happen  to  know  he's  got  the  ideal  '  film  '  face." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  There's  Charley  Tippery,"  Bascom  suggested,  though 
it  was  patent  that  he  was  hopeless  about  it. 

"  Yes,"  Francis  agreed  with  equal  hopelessness. 
"  There's  only  one  thing  the  matter  with  him  —  his  father 
still  lives." 

"  The  old  cuss  never  took  a  flyer  in  his  life,"  Bascom 
supplemented.  "  There's  never  a  time  he  can't  put  his 
hand  on  millions.  And  he  still  lives,  worse  luck." 

"  Charley  could  get  him  to  do  it,  and  would,  except  the 
one  thing  that's  the  matter  with  me." 

"  No  securities  left?  "  his  broker  queried. 

Francis  nodded. 

"  Catch  the  old  man  parting  with  a  dollar  without  due 
security." 

Nevertheless,  a  few  minutes  later,  hoping  to  find  Char 
ley  Tippery  in  his  office  during  the  noon  hour,  Francis 
was  sending  in  his  card.  Of  all  jewelers  and  gem  mer 
chants  in  New  York,  the  Tippery  establishment  was  the 
greatest.  Not  only  that.  It  was  esteemed  the  greatest 
in  the  world.  More  of  the  elder  Tippery's  money  was 
invested  in  the  great  Diamond  Corner,  than  even  those 
in  the  know  of  most  things  knew  of  this  particular 
thing. 

The  interview  was  as  Francis  had  forecast.  The  old 
man  still  held  tight  reins  on  practically  everything,  and 
the  son  had  little  hope  of  winning  his  assistance. 

"  I  know  him,"  he  told  Francis.  "  And  though  I'm 
going  to  wrestle  with  him,  don't  pin  an  iota  of  faith  on 
the  outcome.  I'll  go  to  the  mat  with  him,  but  that  will 
be  about  all.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  he  has  the  ready 
cash,  to  say  nothing  of  oodles  and  oodles  of  safe  securi 
ties  and  United  States  bonds.  But  you  see,  Grandfather 
Tippery,  when  he  was  young  and  struggling  and  found- 

r 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  357 

ing  the  business,  once  loaned  a  friend  a  thousand.  He 
never  got  it  back,  and  he  never  got  over  it.  Nor  did 
Father  Tippery  ever  get  over  it  either.  The  experience 
seared  both  of  them.  Why,  father  wouldn't  lend  a  penny 
on  the  North  Pole  unless  he  got  the  Pole  for  security 
after  having  had  it  expertly  appraised.  And  you  haven't 
any  security,  you  see.  But  I'll  tell  you  what.  Ill  wrestle 
with  the  old  man  to-night  after  dinner.  That's  his  most 
amiable  mood  of  the  day.  And  I'll  hustle  around  on  my 
own  and  see  what  I  can  do.  Oh,  I  know  a  few  hundred 
thousand  won't  mean  anything,  but  I'll  do  my  darnedest 
for  something  big.  Whatever  happens,  I'll  be  at  your 
house  at  nine  to-morrow  - 

"  Which  will  be  my  busy  day,"  Francis  smiled  wanly, 
as  they  shook  hands.  "  I'll  be  out  of  the  house  by 
eight." 

"  And  I'll  be  there  by  eight  then,"  Charley  Tippery  re 
sponded,  again  wringing  his  hand  heartily.  "  And  in 
the  meantime  I'll  get  busy.  There  are  ideas  already  be 
ginning  to  sprout.  .  .  ." 

Another  interview  Francis  had  that  afternoon.  Ar 
rived  back  at  his  broker's  office,  Bascom  told  him  that 
Regan  had  called  up  and  wanted  to  see  Francis,  saying 
that  he  had  some  interesting  information  for  him. 

"  I'll  run  around  right  away,"  Francis  said,  reaching 
for  his  hat,  while  his  face  lighted  up  with  hope.  "  He 
was  an  old  friend  of  father's,  and  if  anybody  could  pull 
me  through,  he  could." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  Bascom  shook  his  head,  and 
paused  reluctantly  a  moment  before  making  confession. 
"  I  called  him  up  just  before  you  returned  from  Panama. 
1  was  very  frank.  I  told  him  of  your  absence  and  of 
syour  perilous  situation  here,  and  —  oh  yes,  flatly  and  flat 
out  —  asked  him  if  I  could  rely  on  him  in  case  of  need. 


35$  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

And  he  baffled.  You  know  anybody  can  baffle  when  asked 
a  favor.  That  was  all  right.  But  I  thought  I  sensed 
more  ...  no,  I  won't  dare  to  say  enmity ;  but  I  will  say 
that  I  was  impressed  .  .  .  how  shall  I  say?  —  well,  that 
he  struck  me  as  being  particularly  and  peculiarly  cold 
blooded  and  non-committal." 

"  Nonsense,"  Francis  laughed.  "  He  was  too  good  a 
friend  of  my  father's." 

"  Ever  heard  of  the  Cosmopolitan  Railways  Merger?  " 
Bascom  queried  with  significant  irrelevance. 

Francis  nodded  promptly,  then  said : 

"  But  that  was  before  my  time.  I  merely  have  heard 
of  it,  that's  all.  Shoot.  Tell  me  about  it.  Give  me  the 
weight  of  your  mind." 

"  Too  long  a  story,  but  take  this  one  word  of  advice. 
If  you  see  Regan,  don't  put  your  cards  on  the  table.  Let 
him  play  first,  and,  if  he  offers,  let  him  offer  without 
solicitation  from  you.  Of  course,  I  may  be  all  wrong, 
but  it  won't  damage  you  to  hold  up  your  hand  and  get  his 
play  first." 

At  the  end  of  another  half  hour,  Francis  was  closeted 
with  .Regan,  and  the  stress  of  his  peril  was  such  that  he 
controlled  his  natural  impulses,  remembered  Bascom's  in 
struction,  and  was  quite  fairly  nonchalant  about  the  state 
of  his  affairs.  He  even  bluffed. 

"  In  pretty  deep,  eh?  "  was  Regan's  beginning. 

"  Oh,  not  so  deep  that  my  back-teeth  are  awash  yet," 
Francis  replied  airily.  "  I  can  still  breathe,  and  it  will  be 
a  long  time  before  I  begin  swallowing." 

Regan  did  not  immediately  reply.  Instead,  pregnantly, 
he  ran  over  the  last  yards  of  the  ticker  tape. 

"  You're  dumping  Tampico  Pet  pretty  heavily,  just  the 
same." 

"  And  they're  snapping  it  up,"  Francis  came  back,  and 
for  the  first  time,  in  a  maze  of  wonderment,  he  considered 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  359 

the  possibility  of  Bascom's  intuition  being  right.     "  Sure, 
I've  got  them  swallowing." 

"  Just  the  same,  you'll  note  that  Tampico  Pet  is  tum 
bling  at  the  same  time  it's  being  snapped  up,  which  is  a 
very  curious  phenomenon,"  Regan  urged. 

"  In  a  bear  market  all  sorts  of  curious  phenomena 
occur,"  Francis  bluffed  with  a  mature  show  of  wisdom. 
"  And  when  they've  swallowed  enough  of  my  dumpings 
they'll  be  ripe  to  roll  on  a  barrel.  Somebody  will  pay 
something  to  get  my  dumpings  out  of  their  system.  I 
fancy  they'll  pay  through  the  nose  before  I'm  done  with 
them." 

"  But  you're  all  in,  boy.  I've  been  watching  your 
fight,  even  before  your  return.  Tampico  Pet  is  your 
last." 

Francis  shook  his  head. 

"  I'd  scarcely  say  that,"  he  lied.  "  I've  got  assets  my 
market  enemies  never  dream  of.  I'm  luring  them  on, 
that's  all,  just  luring  them  on.  Of  course,  Regan,  I'm 
telling  you  this  in  confidence.  You  were  my  father's 
friend.  Mine  is  going  to  be  some  clean  up,  and,  if  you'll 
take  my  tip,  in  this  short  market  you  start  buying. 
You'll  be  sure  to  settle  with  the  sellers  long  in  the  end." 

"  What  are  your  other  assets  ?  " 

Francis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  That's  what  they  are  going  to  find  out  when  they're 
full  up  with  my  stuff." 

"  It's  a  bluff!  "  Regan  admired  explosively.  "  You've 
got  the  old  man's  nerve,  all  right.  But  you've  got  to 
show  me  it  isn't  a  bluff." 

Regan  waited,  and  Francis  was  suddenly  inspired. 

"  It  is,"  he  muttered.  "  You've  named  it.  I'm 
drowning  over  my  back-teeth  now,  and  they're  the  high 
est  out  of  the  wash.  But  I  won't  drown  if  you  will  help 
me.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  remember  my  father  and 


360  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

put  out  your  hand  to  save  his  son.  If  you'll  back  me 
up,  we'll  make  them  all  sick.  .  .  ." 

And  right  there  the  Wolf  of  Wall  Street  showed  his 
teeth.  He  pointed  to  Richard  Henry  Morgan's  picture. 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  kept  that  hanging  on  the  wall 
all  these  years  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Francis  nodded  as  if  the  one  accepted  explanation  was 
their  tried  and  ancient  friendship. 

"  Guess  again,"  Regan  sneered  grimly. 

Francis  shook  his  head  in  perplexity. 

"  So  I  shouldn't  ever  forget  him,"  the  Wolf  went  on. 
"  And  never  a  waking  moment  have  I  forgotten  him. 
-Remember  the  Cosmopolitan  .Railways  Merger? 
Well,  old  R.  H.  M.  double-crossed  me  in  that  deal.  And 
it  was  some  double-cross,  believe  me.  But  he  was  too 
cunning  ever  to  let  me  get  a  come-back  on  him.  So  there 
his  picture  has  hung,  and  here  I've  sat  and  waited.  And 
now  the  time  has  come." 

"  You  mean?  "  Francis  queried  quietly. 

"  Just  that,"  Regan  snarled.  "  I've  waited  and  worked 
for  this  day,  and  the  day  has  come.  I've  got  the  whelp 
where  I  want  him  at  any  rate."  He  glanced  up  malicious 
ly  at  the  picture.  "  And  if  that  don't  make  the  old  gent 
turn  in  his  grave.  .  .  ." 

Francis  rose  to  his  feet  and  regarded  his  enemy  curi 
ously. 

"  No,"  he  said,  as  if  in  soliloquy,  "  it  isn't  worth  it." 

"What  isn't  worth  what?"  the  other  demanded  with 
swift  suspicion. 

"  Beating  you  up,"  was  the  cool  answer.  "  I  could  kill 
you  with  my  hands  in  five  minutes.  You're  no  wolf. 
You're  just  mere  yellow  dog,  the  part  of  you  that  isn't 
plain  skunk.  They  told  me  to  expect  this  of  you;  but  I 
didn't  believe,  and  I  came  to  see.  They  were  right.  You 
were  all  that  they  said.  Well,  I  must  get  along  out 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  361 

of    this.     It   smells    like    a   den   of    foxes.     It   stinks." 

He  paused  with  his  hand  on  the  door  knob  and  looked 
back.  He  had  not  succeeded  in  making  Regan  lose  his 
temper. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  "  the  latter 
jeered. 

"If  you'll  permit  me  to  get  my  broker  on  your  'phone 
maybe  you'll  learn,"  Francis  replied. 

"  Go  to  it,  my  laddy  buck,"  Regan  conceded,  then,  with 
a  wave  of  suspicion,  '  -  I'll  get  him  for  you  my 
self." 

And,  having  ascertained  that  Bascom  was  really  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line,  he  turned  the  receiver  over  to 
Francis. 

"  You  were  right,"  the  latter  assured  Bascom.  "  Re 
gan's  all  you  said  and  worse.  Go  right  on  with  our  plan 
of  campaign.  We've  got  him  where  we  want  him, 
though  the  old  fox  won't  believe  it  for  a  moment.  He 
thinks  he's  going  to  strip  me,  clean  me  out."  Francis 
paused  to  think  up  the  strongest  way  of  carrying  on  his 
bluff,  then  continued.  "  I'll  tell  you  something  you  don't 
know.  He's  the  one  who  maneuvered  the  raid  from  the 
beginning.  So  now  you  know  who  we're  going  to  bury." 

And,  after  a  little  more  of  similar  talk,  he  hung  up. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained,  again  from  the  door,  "  you 
were  so  crafty  that  we  couldn't  make  out  who  it  was. 
Why,  hell,  Regan,  we  were  prepared  to  give  a  walloping 
to  some  unknown  that  had  several  times  your  strength. 
And  now  that  it's  you,  it's  easy.  We  were  prepared  to 
strain.  But  with  you  it  will  be  a  walk-over.  To-mor 
row,  around  this  time,  there's  going  to  be  a  funeral  right 
here  in  your  office  and  you're  not  going  to  be  one  of  the 
mourners.  You're  going  to  be  the  corpse  —  and  a  not- 
nice  looking  financial  corpse  you'll  be  when  we  get  done 
with  you." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"The  deal  spit  of  R.  H.  M.,"  the  Wolf  grinned. 
"  Lord,  how  he  could  pull  off  a  bluff!  " 

"  It's  a  pity  he  didn't  bury  you  and  save  me  all  the 
trouble,"  was  Francis'  parting  shot. 

"  And  all  the  expense,"  Regan  flung  after  him.  "  It's 
going  to  be  pretty  expensive  for  you,  and  there  isn't 
going  to  be  any  funeral  from  this  place." 

"  Well,  to-morrow's  the  day,"  Francis  delivered  to 
Bascom,  as  they  parted  that  evening.  "  This  time  to 
morrow  I'll  be  a  perfectly  nice  scalped  and  skinned  and 
sun-dried  and  smoke-cured  specimen  for  Regan's  private 
collection.  But  who'd  have  believed  the  old  skunk  had  it 
in  for  me!  I  never  harmed  him.  On  the  contrary,  I 
always  considered  him  father's  best  friend. —  If  Charley 
Tipperey  could  only  come  through  with  some  of  the  Tip- 
pery  surplus  coin.  .  .  ." 

"  Or  if  the  United  States  would  only  declare  a 
moratorium,"  Bascom  hoped  equally  hopelessly. 

And  Regan,  at  that  moment,  was  saying  to  his  assem 
bled  agents  and  rumor- factory  specialists : 

"  Sell!  Sell!  Sell  all  you've  got  and  then  sell  short! 
I  see  no  bottom  to  this  market !  " 

And  Francis,  on  his  way  up  town,  buying  the  last 
extra,  scanned  the  five-inch-lettered  head-line: 

"I  SEE  NO  BOTTOM  TO  THIS  MARKET  — THOMAS 
REGAN." 

But  Francis  was  not  at  his  house  at  eight  next  morning 
to  meet  Charley  Tippery.  It  had  been  a  night  in  which 
official  Washington  had  not  slept,  and  the  night-wires 
had  carried  the  news  out  over  the  land  that  the  United 
States,  though  not  at  war,  had  declared  its  moratorium. 
Wakened  out  of  his  bed  at  seven  by  Bascom  in  person, 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  363 

who  brought  the  news,  Francis  had  accompanied  him 
down  town.  The  moratorium  had  given  them  hope,  and 
there  was  much  to  do. 

Charles  Tippery,  however,  was  not  the  first  to  arrive 
at  the  Riverside  Drive  palace.  A  few  minutes  before 
eight,  Parker  was  very  much  disturbed  and  perturbed 
when  Henry  and  Leoncia,  much  the  worse  for  sunburn 
and  travel-stain,  brushed  past  the  second  butler  who  had 
opened  the  door. 

"  It's  no  use  you're  coming  in  this  way,"  Parker  as 
sured  them.  "  Mr.  Morgan  is  not  at  home." 

"  Where's  he  gone?"  Henry  demanded,  shifting  the 
suit-case  he  carried  to  the  other  hand.  "  We've  got  to  see 
him  pronto,  and  I'll  have  you  know  that  '  pronto  '  means 
quick.  And  who  in  hell  are  you?  " 

"  I  am  Mr.  Morgan's  confidential  valet,"  Parker  an 
swered  solemnly.  "  And  who  are  you?  " 

"  My  name's  Morgan,"  Henry  answered  shortly  look 
ing  about  in  quest  of  something,  striding  into  the  library, 
glancing  in,  and  discovering  the  telephones.  "  Where's 
Francis?  With  what  number  can  I  call  him  up?  " 

"  Mr.  Morgan  left  express  instructions  that  nobody  was 
to  telephone  him  except  on  important  business." 

"  Well,  my  business  is  important.  What's  the  num 
ber?" 

"  Mr.  Morgan  is  very  busy  to-day,"  Parker  reiterated 
stubbornly. 

"  He's  in  a  pretty  bad  way,  eh?  "  Henry  quizzed. 

The  valet's  face  remained  expressionless. 

"  Looks  as  though  he  was  going  to  be  cleaned  out  to 
day,  eh?" 

Parker's  face  betrayed  neither  emotion  nor  intelligence. 

"  For  a  second  time  I  tell  you  he  is  very  busy  -  "  he 
began. 

"  Hell's  bells !  "  Henry  interrupted.     "  It's  no  secret. 


3^4  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

The  market's  got  him  where  the  hair  is  short.  Every 
body  knows  that.  A  lot  of  it  was  in  the  morning  papers. 
Now  come  across,  Mr.  Confidential  Valet.  I  want  his 
number.  I've  got  important  business  with  him  myself." 

But  Parker  remained  obdurate. 

"What's  his  lawyer's  name?  Or  the  name  of  his 
agent?  Or  of  any  of  his  representatives?  " 

Parker  shook  his  head. 

"If  you  will  tell  me  the  nature  of  your  business  with 
him,"  the  valet  essayed. 

Henry  dropped  the  suit-case  and  made  as  if  about  to 
leap  upon  the  other  and  shake  Francis'  number  out  of. 
him.  But  Leoncia  intervened. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  said. 

'  Tell  him !  "  Henry  shouted,  accepting  her  suggestion. 
"I'll  do  better  than  that.  I'll  show  him. —  Here,  come 
on,  you."  He  strode  into  the  library,  swung  the  suit 
case  on  the  reading  table,  and  began  opening  it.  "  Listen 
to  me,  Mr.  Confidential  Valet.  Our  business  is  the  real 
business.  We're  going  to  save  Francis  Morgan.  We're 
going  to  pull  him  out  of  the  hole.  We've  got  millions 
for  him,  right  here  inside  of  this  thing  —  " 

Parker,  who  had  been  looking  on  with  cold,  disap 
proving  eyes,  recoiled  in  alarm  at  the  last  words.  Either 
the  strange  callers  were  lunatics,  or  cunning  criminals. 
Even  at  that  moment,  while  they  held  him  here  with  their 
talk  of  millions,  confederates  might  be  ransacking  the 
upper  parts  of  the  house.  As  for  the  suit-case,  for  all  he 
knew  it  might  be  filled  with  dynamite. 

"Here!" 

With  a  quick  reach  Henry  had  caught  him  by  the  col 
lar  as  he  turned  to  flee.  With  his  other  hand,  Henry 
lifted  the  cover,  exposing  a  bushel  of  uncut  gems.  Par 
ker  showed  plainly  that  he  was  overcome,  although  Henry 
failed  to  guess  the  nature  of  his  agitation. 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  365 

"  Thought  I'd  convince  you,"  Henry  exulted.  "  Now 
be  good  dog  and  give  me  his  number." 

"  Be  seated,  sir  —  and  madame,"  Parker  murmured, 
with  polite  bows  and  a  successful  effort  to  control  him 
self.  "  Be  seated,  please.  I  have  left  the  private  num 
ber  in  Mr.  Morgan's  bedroom,  which  he  gave  to  me  this 
morning  when  I  helped  him  dress.  I  shall  be  gone  but 
a  moment  to  get  it.  In  the  meantime  please  be  seated/' 

Once  outside  the  library,  Parker  became  a  most  active, 
clear-thinking  person.  Stationing  the  second  footman 
at  the  front  door,  he  placed  the  first  one  to  watch  at  the 
library  door.  Several  other  servants  he  sent  scouting 
into  the  upper  regions  on  the  chance  of  surprising  possible 
confederates  at  their  nefarious  work.  Himself  he  ad 
dressed,  via  the  butler's  telephone,  to  the  nearest  police 
station. 

'  Yes,  sir,"  he  repeated  to  the  desk  sergeant.  '  They 
are  either  a  couple  of  lunatics  or  criminals.  Send  a  patrol 
wagon  at  once,  please  sir.  Even  now  I  do  not  know  what 
horrible  crimes  are  being  committed  under  this 
roof.  .  .  ." 

In  the  meantime,  in  response  at  the  front  door,  the 
second  footman,  with  visible  relief,  admitted  Charley 
Tippery,  clad  in  evening  dress  at  that  early  hour,  as 
a  known  and  tried  friend  of  the  master.  The  first  butler, 
with  similar  relief,  to  which  he  added  sundry  winks  and 
warnings,  admitted  him  into  the  library. 

Expecting  he  knew  not  what  nor  whom,  Charley  Tip 
pery  advanced  across  the  large  room  to  the  strange  man 
and  woman.  Unlike  Parker,  their  sunburn  and  travel- 
stain  caught  his  eye,  not  as  insignia  suspicious,  but  as 
tokens  worthy  of  wider  consideration  than  average  New 
York  accords  its  more  or  less  average  visitors.  Leoncia's 
beauty  was  like  a  blow  between  the  eyes,  and  he  knew 
she  was  a  lady.  Henry's  bronze,  brazed  upon  features 


366  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

unmistakably  reminiscent  of  Francis  and  of  ,R.  H.  M., 
drew  his  admiration  and  respect. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  addressed  Henry,  although  he 
subtly  embraced  Leoncia  with  his  greeting.  "  Friends  of 
Francis?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,"  Leoncia  cried  out.  "  We  are  more  than 
friends.  We  are  here  to  save  him.  I  have  read  the 
morning  papers.  If  only  it  weren't  for  the  stupidity  of 
the  servants.  .  .  ." 

And  Charley  Tippery  was  immediately  unaware  of  any 
slightest  doubt.  He  extended  his  hand  to  Henry. 

"  I  am  Charley  Tippery,"  he  said. 

"  And  my  name's  Morgan,  Henry  Morgan,"  Henry 
met  him  warmly,  like  a  drowning  man  clutching  at  a  life 
preserver.  "  And  this  is  Miss  Solano  —  the  Sefiorita 
Solano  —  Mr.  Tippery.  In  fact,  Miss  Solano  is  my 
sister." 

"  I  came  on  the  same  errand,"  Charley  Tippery  an 
nounced,  introductions  over.  '  The  saving  of  Francis, 
as  I  understand  it,  must  consist  of  hard  cash  or  of  secu 
rities  indisputably  negotiable.  I  have  brought  with  me 
what  I  have  hustled  all  night  to  get,  and  what  I  am  con 
fident  is  not  sufficient  —  " 

"  How  much  have  you  brought?  "  Henry  asked  bluntly. 

"  Eighteen  hundred  thousand  —  what  have  you 
brought?" 

"  Piffle,"  said  Henry,  pointing  to  the  open  suit-case, 
unaware  that  he  talked  to  a  three-generations'  gem  ex 
pert. 

A  quick  examination  of  a  dozen  of  the  gems  picked  at 
random,  and  an  even  quicker  eye-estimate  of  the  quantity, 
put  wonder  and  excitement  into  Charley  Tippery's  face. 

"They're  worth  millions!  —  millions!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Negotiate  them,  so  as  to  help  Francis  out,"  Henry 


HEARTS    OF    THREE 

answered.     "  They're    security    for  any   amount,   aren't 
they?" 

"  Close  up  that  suit-case,"  Charley  Tippery  cried, 
"  while  I  telephone !  —  I  want  to  catch  my  father  before 
he  leaves  the  house,"  he  explained  over  his  shoulder, 
while  waiting  for  his  switch.  "  It's  only  five  minutes' 
run  from  here." 

Just  as  he  concluded  the  brief  words  with  his  father, 
Parker,  followed  by  a  police  lieutenant  and  two  policemen, 
entered. 

"  There's  the  gang,  lieutenant  —  arrest  them,"  Parker 
said.  "  —  Oh,  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Tippery. 
Not  you,  of  course.  —  Only  the  other  two,  lieutenant. 
I  don't  know  what  the  charge  will  be  —  crazy,  anyway, 
if  not  worse,  which  is  more  likely." 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Tippery,"  the  lieutenant  greeted 
familiarly. 

"  You'll  arrest  nobody,  Lieutenant  Burns,"  Charley 
Tippery  smiled  to  him.  "  You  can  send  the  wagon  back 
to  the  station.  I'll  square  it  with  the  Inspector.  For 
you're  coming  along  with  me,  and  this  suit-case,  and  these 
suspicious  characters,  to  my  house.  You'll  have  to  be 
body  guard  —  oh,  not  for  me,  but  for  this  suit-case. 
There  are  millions  in  it,  cold  millions,  hard  millions, 
beautiful  millions.  When  I  open  it  before  my  father, 
you'll  see  a  sight  given  to  few  men  in  this  world  to  see. 
—  And  now,  come  on  everybody.  We're  wasting  time." 

He  made  a  grab  at  the  suit-case  simultaneously  with 
Henry,  and,  as  both  their  hands  clutched  it,  Lieutenant 
Burns  sprang  to  interfere. 

"  I  fancy  I'll  carry  it  until  it's  negotiated,"  Henry  as 
serted. 

"  Surely,  surely,"  Charley  Tippery  conceded,  "  as  long 
as  we  don't  lose  any  more  precious  time.  It  will  take 
time  to  do  the  negotiating.  Come  on !  Hustle !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

HELPED  tremendously  by  the  moratorium,  the  sagging 
market  had  ceased  sagging,  and  some  stocks  were  even 
beginning  to  recover.  This  was  true  for  practically  every 
line  save  those  lines  in  which  Francis  owned  and  which 
Regan  was  bearing.  He  continued  bearing  and  making 
them  reluctantly  fall,  and  he  noted  with  joy  the  huge 
blocks  of  Tampico  Petroleum  which  were  being  dumped 
obviously  by  no  other  person  than  Francis. 

"  Now's  the  time,"  Regan  informed  his  bear  conspira 
tors.  "  Play  her  coming  and  going.  It's  a  double  ruff. 
Remember  the  list  I  gave  you.  Sell  these,  and  sell  short. 
For  them  there  is  no  bottom.  As  for  all  the  rest,  buy 
and  buy  now,  and  deliver  all  that  you  sold.  You  can't 
lose,  you  see,  and  by  continuing  to  hammer  the  list  you'll 
make  a  double  killing." 

"  How  about  yourself  ?  "  one  of  his  bear  crowd  queried. 

"  I've  nothing  to  buy,"  came  the  answer.  "  That  will 
show  you  how  square  I  have  been  in  my  tip,  and  how 
confident  I  am.  I  haven't  sold  a  share  outside  the  list, 
so  I  have  nothing  to  deliver.  I  am  still  selling  short 
and  hammering  down  the  list,  and  the  list  only.  There's 
my  killing,  and  you  can  share  in  it  by  as  much  as  you 
continue  to  sell  short." 

"  There  you  are!"  Bascom,  in  despair  in  his  private 
office,  cried  to  Francis  at  ten-thirty.  "  Here's  the  whole 
market  rising,  except  your  lines.  Regan's  out  for  blood. 
I  never  dreamed  he  could  show  such  strength.  We  can't 
stand  this.  We're  finished.  We're  smashed  now  —  you, 
me,  all  of  us  —  everything." 

368 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  369 

Never  had  Francis  been  cooler.  Since  all  was  lost, 
why  worry ?  —  was  his  attitude;  and,  a  mere  layman  in 
the  game,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  possibilities  that  were 
veiled  to  Bascom  who  too  thoroughly  knew  too  much 
about  the  game. 

"  Take  it  easy,"  Francis  counseled,  his  new  vision  as 
suming  form  and  substance  with  each  tick  of  a  second. 
"  Let's  have  a  smoke  and  talk  it  over  for  a  few  minutes." 

Bascom  made  a  gesture  of  infinite  impatience. 

"  But  wait,"  Francis  urged.  "Stop!  Look!  Lis 
ten!  I'm  finished,  you  say?  " 

His  broker  nodded. 

"You're  finished?" 

Again  the  nod. 

"  Which  means  that  we're  busted,  flat  busted,"  Francis 
went  on  to  the  exposition  of  his  new  idea.  "  Now  it  is 
perfectly  clear,  then,  to  your  mind  and  mine,  that  a  man 
can  never  be  worse  than  a  complete,  perfect,  hundred- 
per-cent,  entire,  total  bust." 

"  We're  wasting  valuable  time,"  Bascom  protested  as 
he  nodded  affirmation. 

"  Not  if  we're  busted  as  completely  as  you've  agreed 
we  are,"  smiled  Francis.  "  Being  thoroughly  busted, 
time,  sales,  purchases,  nothing  can  be  of  any  value  to  us. 
Values  have  ceased,  don't  you  see?  " 

"  Go  on,  what  is  it?  "  Bascom  said,  with  the  momen 
tarily  assumed  patience  of  abject  despair.  "  I'm  busted 
higher  than  a  kite  now,  and,  as  you  say,  they  can't  bust 
me  any  higher." 

"  Now  you  get  the  idea !  "  Francis  jubilated.  "  You're 
a  member  of  the  Exchange.  Then  go  ahead,  sell  or  buy, 
do  anything  your  and  my  merry  hearts  decide.  We  can't 
lose.  Anything  from  zero  always  leaves  zero.  We've 
shot  all  we've  got,  and  more.  Let's  shoot  what  we 
haven't  got." 


37°  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

Bascom  still  struggled  feebly  to  protest,  but  Francis 
beat  him  down  with  a  final : 

"  Remember,  anything  from  zero  leaves  zero." 

And  for  the  next  hour,  as  in  a  nightmare,  no  longer  a 
free  agent,  Bascom  yielded  to  Francis'  will  in  the  maddest 
stock  adventure  of  his  life. 

"  Oh,  well,"  Francis  laughed  at  half  past  eleven,  "  we 
might  as  well  quit  now.  But  remember,  we're  no  worse 
off  than  we  were  an  hour  ago.  We  were  zero  then. 
We're  zero  now.  You  can  hang  up  the  auctioneer's  flag 
any  time  now." 

Bascom,  heavily  and  wearily  taking  down  the  receiver, 
was  about  to  transmit  the  orders  that  would  stop  the  battle 
by  acknowledgement  of  unconditional  defeat,  when  the 
door  opened  and  through  it  came  the  familiar  ring  of  a 
pirate  stave  that  made  Francis  flash  his  hand  out  in  per 
emptory  stoppage  of  his  broker's  arm. 

"  Stop !  "  Francis  cried.     "  Listen !  " 

And  they  listened  to  the  song  preceding  the  singer: 

"  Back  to  back  against  the  mainmast, 
Held  at  bay  the  entire  crew." 

As  Henry  swaggered  in,  carrying  a  huge  and  different 
suit-case,  Francis  joined  with  him  in  the  stave. 

"  What's  doing?  "  Bascom  queried  of  Charley  Tippery, 
who,  still  in  evening  dress,  looked  very  jaded  and  worn 
from  his  exertions. 

From  his  breast  pocket  he  drew  and  passed  over  three 
certified  checks  that  totaled  eighteen  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  Bascom  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"Too  late,"  he  said.  "That's  only  a  drop  in  the 
bucket.  Put  them  back  in  your  pocket.  It  would  be  only 
throwing  them  away." 

"But  wait,"  Charley  Tippery  cried,  taking  the  suit- 


HEARTS    OF   THREE  37 1 

case  from  his  singing  companion  and  proceeding  to  open 
it.  "  Maybe  that  will  help." 

"  That"  consisted  of  a  great  mass  of  orderly  bundles 
of  gold  bonds  and  gilt  edge  securities. 

"  How  much  is  it?"  Bascom  gasped,  his  courage 
springing  up  like  wild-fire. 

But  Francis,  overcome  by  the  sight  of  such  plethora  of 
ammunition,  ceased  singing  to  gasp.  And  both  he  and 
Bascom  gasped  again  when  Henry  drew  from  his  inside 
pocket  a  bundle  of  a  dozen  certified  checks.  They  could 
only  stare  at  the  prodigious  sum,  for  each  was  written  for 
a  million  dollars. 

"  And  plenty  more  where  that  came  from,"  Henry  an 
nounced  airily.  "  All  you  have  to  do  is  say  the  word, 
Francis,  and  we'll  knock  this  bear  gang  to  smithereens. 
Now  suppose  you  get  busy.  The  rumors  are  around 
everywhere  that  you're  gone  and  done  for.  Pitch  in  and 
show  them,  that's  all.  Bust  every  last  one  of  them  that 
jumped  you.  Shake  Jm  down  to  their  gold  watches  and 
the  fillings  out  of  their  teeth." 

"  You  found  old  Sir  Henry's  treasure  after  all,"  Fran 
cis  congratulated. 

"  No,"  Henry  shook  his  head.  "  That  represents 
part  of  the  old  Maya  treasure  —  about  a  third  of  it. 
We've  got  another  third  down  with  Enrico  Solano,  and 
the  last  third's  safe  right  here  in  the  Jewelers  and 
Traders  National  Bank. —  Say,  I've  got  news  for  you 
when  you're  ready  to  listen." 

And  Francis  was  quickly  ready.  Bascom  knew  even 
better  than  he  what  was  to  be  done,  and  was  already  giv 
ing  his  orders  to  his  staff  over  the  telephones  —  buying 
orders  of  such  prodigious  size  that  all  of  Regan's  for 
tune  would  not  enable  him  to  deliver  what  he  had  sold 
short. 


372  HEARTS    OF    THREE 

"  Torres  is  dead,"  Henry  told  him. 

"  Hurrah !  "  was  Francis'  way  of  receiving  it. 

"  Died  like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  I  saw  his  head  sticking 
out.  It  wasn't  pretty.  And  the  Jefe's  dead.  And 
—  and  somebody  else  is  dead  — " 

"  Not  Leoncia !  "  Francis  cried  out. 

Henry  shook  his  head. 

"  Some  one  of  the  Solanos  —  old  Enrico?  " 

"  No;  your  wife,  Mrs.  Morgan.  Torres  shot  her,  de 
liberately  shot  her.  I  was  beside  her  when  she  fell. 
Now  hold  on,  I've  got  other  news.  Leoncia's  right  there 
in  that  other  office,  and  she  waiting  for  you  to  come  to 
her. —  Can't  you  wait  till  I'm  through?  I've  got  more 
news  that  will  give  you  the  right  steer  before  you  go  in 
to  her.  Why,  hell's  bells,  if  I  were  a  certain  Chinaman 
that  I  know,  I'd  make  you  pay  me  a  million  for  all  the 
information  I'm  giving  you  for  nothing." 

"  Shoot  —  what  is  it?  "  Francis  demanded  impatiently. 

"  Good  news,  of  course,  unadulterated  good  news. 
Best  news  you  ever  heard.  I  —  now  don't  laugh,  or 
knock  my  block  off  —  for  the  goods  news  is  that  I've 
got  a  sister." 

"  What  of  it?"  was  Francis'  brusque  response.  "I 
always  knew  you  had  sisters  in  England." 

"  But  you  don't  get  me,"  Henry  dragged  on.  "  This 
is  a  perfectly  brand  new  sister,  all  grown  up,  and  the  most 
beautiful  woman  you  ever  laid  eyes  on." 

"  And  what  of  it?  "  growled  Francis.  "  That  may  be 
good  news  for  you,  but  I  don't  see  how  it  affects  me." 

"  Ah,  now  we're  coming  to  it,"  Henry  grinned. 
'  You're  going  to  marry  her.  I  give  you  my  full  per 
mission —  " 

"  Not  if  she  were  ten  times  your  sister,  nor  if  she  were 
ten  times  as  beautiful,"  Francis  broke  in.  "  The  woman 
doesn't  exist  I'd  marry." 


HEARTS    OF    THREE  373 

"  Just  the  same,  Francis  boy,  you're  going  to  marry  this 
ene.  I  know  it.  I  feel  it  in  my  bones.  I'd  bet  on  it." 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  thousand  I  don't." 

"  Aw,  go  on  and  make  it  a  real  bet,"  Henry  drawled. 

"  Any  amount  you  want." 

"  Done,  then,  for  a  thousand  and  fifty  dollars.  Now 
go  right  into  the  office  there  and  take  a  look  at  her." 

"She's   with  Leoncia?" 

"Nope;  she's  by  herself." 

"  I  though  you  said  Leoncia  was  in  there." 

"  So  I  did,  so  I  did.  And  so  Leoncia  is  in  there.  And 
she  isn't  with  another  soul,  and  she's  waiting  to  talk 
with  you." 

By  this  time  Francis  was  growing  peevish. 

"What  are  you  stringing  me  for?"  he  demanded. 
"  I  can't  make  head  nor  tail  of  your  foolery.  One  mo 
ment  it's  your  brand  new  sister  in  there,  and  the  next 
moment  it's  your  wife." 

"  Who  said  I  ever  had  a  wife?  "  Henry  came  back. 

"  I  give  up !  "  Francis  cried.  "  I'm  going  on  in  and 
see  Leoncia.  I'll  talk  with  you  later  on  when  you're  back 
in  your  right  mind." 

He  started  for  the  door,  but  was  stopped  by  Henry. 

"  Just  a  second  more,  Francis,  and  I'm  done,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  to  give  you  this  steer.  I  am  not  married. 
There  is  only  one  woman  waiting  for  you  in  there.  That 
one  woman  is  my  sister.  Also  is  she  Leoncia." 

It  required  a  dazed  half  minute  for  Francis  to  get  it 
clearly  into  his  head.  Again,  and  in  a  rush,'  he  was  start 
ing  for  the  door,  when  Henry  stopped  him. 

"  Do  I  win?  "  queried  Henry. 

But  Francis  shook  him  off,  dashed  through  the  door, 
and  slammed  it  after  him. 

THE    END 

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